Fall From Grace
by TheWitch'sCat
Summary: "Sitting there, waiting for her first cue, Briallen studied her reflection. She looked at herself and saw Mary Poppins...That evening, Briallen couldn't help wondering about Mary. She wondered if perhaps, some afternoon, Mary had let Bert hike up her petticoats in one of the pristine meadows in his perfect drawings." Sort of AU. Set in the world of the Broadway show.
1. Chapter 1: Change

**It seems my muse has hit me with another story...**

**I had so much fun doing this with Wicked, I've decided to give it a try with Mary Poppins. Being an actor myself, it's intriguing to write about the actors and actresses who play the parts we love so much. And since fanfiction is such a guilty pleasure anyway, I'm going to indulge myself and have fun doing this. I hope you'll read along. This may not become an actual novel, like Beneath the Caldera, but I think it will be a poignant and touching story.**

**So, if you're wondering what this is about, it's a story about a young woman named Briallen. She's fortunate enough to be playing the role of Mary Poppins in the stage production, and we'll see how a series of events, starting with a new cast member, changes her life. I hope you'll give it a chance, and I promise to give you a story that grips your heart.**

**I hope you'll review and let me know what you think, and if you are interested.**

**I've done some editing and reworking, now that I'm finishing this. Nothing major to the plot, but there are some new lines and slight chapter ending changes. (8/9/14)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Change**

It was a good performance that night, all things considered. The energy level ran high and the lines were delivered with a little extra punch. The choreography might've been less precise, but was more passionate. Toward the end, in the lower, softer moments, there had even been a few tears. And at curtain call, there had been whistling and cheering from fans who'd bought tickets knowing the show was losing a cast member. There were extra bows and thundering applause. It was a night when emotions ran high and the thrill of performance was infused with a certain sense of personal loss. So, given the past three hours, Briallen Griffith was exhausted.

Sitting in her dressing room, she took her time carefully removing her upswept wig and the layers of makeup. She pulled her hair from the pin curls, letting it fall past her shoulders in waves the color of smoldering flame. She carefully put away the false eyelashes, checking her eyes for residue from both glue and eyeliner. Briallen had always been secretly pleased with her eyes, which were the color of a cloudless sky, clear and dramatic. She often thought that, aside from her voice, her eyes might've been the feature that won her this part.

Finally satisfied with the makeup removal, she shed the rest of her costume and turned it over to her dresser. She stowed her iconic boots with her other shoes. She made sure all the elements that transformed her, nightly, into Mary Poppins were properly organized. Then, she pulled on some fitted sweats and her favorite, furry boots. She took a moment to straighten the vanity and then wrapped herself in her coat with the fur collar.

Grabbing her shoulder bag, she finally made her way out of the dressing room and towards the stage door. When she exited the theater into the brisk, early spring night, Briallen found Carter just outside. He was signing programs for a few lingering fans. She watched him scrawl 'Carter Jones' across the glossy pages and smile at the eager folks who'd come to meet him. They stared at him adoringly, and he smiled back at them with the same crooked grin that made everyone love his character.

Briallen stood there for a moment, unnoticed. Very often, the average audience member didn't recognize her as the show's lead once she was out of costume. Her fiery locks and petite stature belied the fact that she was the dark-haired, strong-willed character they'd just seen onstage. Tonight was no different. Realizing she was standing there, Carter took the time to let his fans know she was his costar.

"This," he said as he signed programs, "is our Mary Poppins."

The young girls, parents, and children looked her over in disbelief.

"I know," Briallen smiled, "I don't hold a candle to Mary. I hope it's not too disappointing."

When she spoke, she saw the recognition on their faces. It was always her voice that enchanted that gave her away. Briallen was Welsh, by birth. She'd grown up just outside of Cardiff, the third child of middle-class parents. They ran a small restaurant, serving traditional food to customers who'd been coming for more than twenty years. It was a good life, a safe, comfortable life, filled with tradition and family. So it had been difficult for Briallen to follow her dream of a career in musical theater to the states. However, after just three years of working in London's West End, hoping for a really significant break, and at the age of just twenty-five, she'd been offered this role. At her audition she'd somehow caught the attention of the producers looking to cast a new, Atlanta-based production of _Mary Poppins_.

"It's your eyes," Carter had often half-teased her, "and the lovely Welsh accent."

"It certainly wasn't my commanding stage presence," Briallen would roll her eyes in return.

Standing outside the stage door now, she could see these fans sizing her up as well. She was used to the reaction, and she knew what they were thinking.

_She's shorter than I thought…she looks nothing like her character…except maybe the eyes…_

To put them at ease, she spoke up again, "It's all right. I wouldn't recognize me, either. I hope you had a lovely evening."

The children smiled at her, enjoying her sing-song way of speaking. It was in her voice that they got a glimpse of their beloved character. One of the little girls held out her program for Briallen to sign, and she obliged.

"How do you say your name?" another asked.

"Briallen," she answered, "Bray-lynn."

"We'll miss you, Bert," one of the older girls said, "We've seen you four times since the show opened."

Carter smiled and let them take photos.

After another few minutes, the fans drifted away and Carter and Briallen were left alone. They stood there for a minute, watching the cars and the passersby.

"Well," Carter said, "it's done. My last show."

Briallen tried to smile, "Good riddance, I suppose," she teased.

"You're so ready to be rid of me?" he chuckled.

"Of course not," she admitted, "I'm terrified of working with someone new, someone from the states."

Carter nodded, "I know, but it's time to go home for a bit. It's been nearly two years now, and I promised Beth I would marry her."

Carter was originally from south London, making him quite a perfect fit for the character of Bert. Like Briallen, his accent fit the part.

She nodded, "I understand, really. You've played New York. Everyone loves you, but you deserve a bit of a break. And Beth has been awfully patient."

"She deserves to have me to herself for a little while," Carter added.

"Well, I do appreciate her allowing our friendship."

Carter smiled at her. After a moment, he said, "We should get to the party…"

Briallen agreed, "I think we're that last ones out, again."

"You're just slow," he teased.

She slapped him playfully and followed him down the street. They were meeting most of the cast at a funky restaurant and bar just down the street. _Zapppatos_ served an amazing array of pastas, along with a creative assortment of cocktails. It was a fun place where the cast occasionally went to celebrate or just unwind. Tonight, they were giving Carter a proper send off.

The moment they came through the door, Carter was whisked away. In general, the cast loved him, and he had a way of disarming even those who might envy his position. This cast was quite varied in age and ability, which also made for a fun dynamic when they got together. The children made an appearance with their guardians just to say goodbye and then went home to bed. The rest, from the youngest dancers to the older ladies who played the Bird Woman and Mrs. Brill, stayed.

They all had a good dynamic, Briallen had to admit. They mostly got along, although they came from a wide variety of backgrounds. Trina, who played Mrs. Corry, was originally from Haiti, and the story of her transition to the states was fascinating. Allie, who played Winifred Banks, was actually from western Georgia. Her accent offstage was a far cry from the formal, British accent her character demanded. Allie was probably Briallen's closest friend, after Carter. They had spent their first couple of weeks during rehearsals laughing at how the English language came out of their mouths in such very different ways. Now, they were also roommates.

Carter, however, had been Briallen's best friend since their first read-through. They had so much in common that their relationship was as natural as breathing. He helped her navigate the culture of the states, and they were often homesick together. They reminisced about the rolling, misty country that was their homeland, where one could leave the bustle of a modern city and find a castle just over the hills. It was a place where the new existed concurrently with the old. Carter understood that being raised in the shadow of a shiny, modern city did not mean one let go of the traditions that had existed for centuries. He understood her ties to the Celtic roots of her Welsh upbringing, and he would listen when she talked about her Granny Llewellyn, who told stories and sang songs in Welsh.

Now, watching him move around the restaurant, laughing and reminiscing with the cast, Briallen realized how very much she would miss Carter. He had been her rock in this new country. He had made her feel at ease and made taking on such a massive, complicated role so much less intimidating. They'd had an excellent run, these past four months, and Briallen liked to think it was their chemistry that helped to make this new production so successful. He couldn't stay forever, though. She'd known that from the beginning.

Briallen was so lost in that thought that she didn't see Brennen until he was leaning on the table in front of her. Brennen was their male dance captain, and he was, as far as Briallen was concerned, most obnoxious.

"What's wrong, Poppins? You look like you've lost the will to live," he chided, sipping rum and coke.

Briallen looked up at him, more annoyed than usual, and snapped, "You _really_ don't have to call me that."

Brennen smirked, "If the boot fits…"

She gave him a withering glance.

"I was just trying to be nice," he rolled his eyes, "As always, you're the life of the party."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Briallen.

"It's a farewell party," she snapped, "It is a bit sad."

Brennen smirked, "That's right. Carter's going back to his chippie girlfriend."

Briallen cringed, "That's so very offensive."

"I'm just joking," Brennen laughed.

Briallen stared at him, not amused.

He sipped his drink, "You really need to unclench, Briallen. You're out of costume, you know? And Carter's engaged. Move on already. There's plenty of us who would gladly move on with you."

Briallen fought the urge to slap him. She was not, however, one to lash out in such a way. So she just stared at Brennen in disgust until he rolled his eyes and walked away. A few minutes later, Carter approached her, looking concerned.

"Are you not having fun?" he asked.

She smiled, "You know me, I'm not much for parties."

"You'd rather be reading, wouldn't you?" he teased.

Briallen nodded, smiling a little.

There was a pause, and Carter said, "You don't have to stay for me. Go home. We'll keep in touch, I'm certain."

Briallen cocked her head and said, "I think I will."

"I'll walk you out," Carter offered.

She stood, retrieved her coat, and they made their way through the crowded restaurant to the door. Once outside on the street, they faced off again.

Not sure what to say, Briallen smiled softly and quoted one of his lines from the show, "It's tonight, isn't it?"

Carter smiled in return, "Yes, it is."

"Look after yourself," she quoted herself this time.

Carter turned serious, "I'll miss you, but you'll be fine. You have all the talent in the world. Don't give your new Bert too hard of a time."

Briallen smiled, "I doubt that's possible."

There was a pause, "I leave early. The flight's at seven…" Carter stated.

"So, this is goodbye, then." Briallen added.

Carter nodded. Then he stepped in and hugged her tightly. When he pulled back, he kissed her forehead, much the way her older brothers used to.

"Stay out of trouble," he instructed.

"I will," she whispered.

Then, with one final smile, Briallen turned and walked away.

* * *

The following morning, Briallen sat in her apartment staring out the window and sipping coffee. She was glad it was her day off, since it had been a late night the day before. She was also glad for the rest before rehearsals with her new costar began the next morning. She was trying to gear herself up for learning a new partner.

Coming from her bedroom in her pajamas, Allie yawned and asked "Everything ok?"

Briallen nodded, "Yes. I suppose I just don't do very well with change."

"I wish I could relate. My life has always been about change," Allie quipped.

Briallen smiled as her roommate poured some coffee and sat down in the well-worn chair in the living room.

"Can I ask you something? And you not get mad at me?" Allie asked.

"All right," Briallen agreed.

"There's no judging, but, were you in love with him? With Carter?"

Briallen was taken aback, but she understood the reasoning behind the question. She wasn't entirely naïve. So she said, "No. I've always known he loves someone else. But…"

"What?"

"I think I was I love with the idea of him," she admitted.

Allie cocked her head, curious.

"Carter is a rarity. He's sweet, considerate, kind, he's respectful," Briallen explained.

"You mean, the opposite of Brennen?" Allie smiled.

"Perhaps. He's just such a genuinely good person," Briallen mused.

"We'll find someone for you, Bray," Allie assured in her rolling, west Georgia accent, "Maybe someone who's not an actor. They're the worst, sometimes."

Briallen laughed, "Thank you, but I'm all right. I have the show. I have family back home. Carter will always be a good friend. I don't need a partner."

Allie chuckled, "You're so self-sufficient. I'm glad you agreed to room with me. I know you can afford to live alone, but you'd spend every day reading or staring at the trees. You need to live a little, Bray."

"Are you mothering me again?" Briallen asked with a smile.

"I've got five years on you," Allie laughed, pulling her ash-blonde hair on top of her head with an elastic, her hazel eyes twinkling, "I just want you to have some fun."

"Tomorrow will certainly be fun," Briallen rolled her eyes and then smiled at her own sarcasm.

Allie went along with the change of subject, and they chatted for a while about the next day's rehearsal, and their new Bert.

* * *

Tuesday's rehearsal was as grueling as Briallen had expected it to be. It was hard, after having developed such an established routine with Carter, to adjust to someone different. And Jackson was absolutely different. He was fresh off the national tour of the same show, which gave him experience. He knew the part, but he was the antithesis of Carter.

"Jackson Devereaux," he'd held out his hand and introduced himself that morning, running his other hand through his nearly black hair.

He was taller than Carter, who'd been more suited to Briallen's height of just five foot three. Also, where Carter was more approachably handsome, with bright eyes and an easy smile, Jackson was brooding and dark. His eyes were somewhere between caramel and milk chocolate, with dark, heavy lashes. His smile revealed dimples, which were more exotic than cute on him, and his features were strong, yet imperfect enough to make him seem earthy and mysterious.

After sizing each other up, they'd gotten to work quickly. The production stage manager had them run through all the choreography first, focusing on placement and flow. They were constantly tripping up, thrown off by each slight variation in interpretation or style. Brennen seemed to enjoy correcting them, wearing a smirk as he did so.

By the end of the rehearsal, they were tired, and there was still a show to do that night. The understudy was up for the part of Bert for the week, while they integrated Jackson into the cast, but Briallen still had to perform.

As everyone filed out of the rehearsal studio, Jackson hung back, collecting his jacket and bag. His eyes followed Briallen as she pulled on her coat and let her hair loose from the clasp she'd used to pull it back. He watched her walk away, noting that she seemed to have curves beneath the heavy coat. When they'd danced together, he'd had to admit that she was good. She was well proportioned, if a bit short, and her delicate features gave her a doll-like beauty.

Brennen, who'd been watching him study Briallen, approached and spoke up, "Are you checking out Poppins?"

"What?" Jackson turned.

"Briallen. I call her Poppins," Brennen explained, "because she's incredibly typecast."

Jackson still looked confused.

Brennen stuck out his hand, "Brennen Strause, dance captain. We haven't officially met."

Jackson shook his hand and said of Briallen, "Poppins? Really? She's cute."

Brennen rolled his eyes, "Maybe. But it's not worth your time. She won't even flirt."

Jackson smirked, "She thinks she's too good?"

Brennen shook his head, "No, she just…she doesn't talk. She likes to read. She's weird. But she's good on stage, so you're in luck."

Jackson nodded and said no more. He watched Briallen, who'd waited for Allie before turning to go. As she walked away, he felt a rush. She was a challenge and, lately, it was hard to find a challenge. She was different from his usual type, with hair like fire and piercing eyes. She wasn't the typical blonde he usually went for. And the genuine, British accent was alluring. So he watched her and felt a rush of excitement.

"Poppins," he said to Brennen, smirking, "I'll have to remember to call her that when she's screaming my name."

Brennen laughed, and added, "That will never happen, but I had a feeling you and I would get along. Meet me after the show tonight at _Trixx_ down the street, two blocks up. I'll let you know which of the dancers are worth hooking up with."

Jackson gave a smile and a nod, and then left for the afternoon quite pleased. Atlanta, it seemed, was going to be decent.


	2. Chapter 2: Fantasy

**So...here's more. Excuse some of the crude humor, but some people are just...crude. :-)**

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**Chapter 2: Fantasy**

The following day, at their morning rehearsal, Jackson turned on the charm. It was something that had always come naturally to him and generally resulted in much giggling and whispering from the girls. Some of the dancers responded exactly as he expected. He heaped on the compliments and stood just a little closer than necessary when chatting with them. They laughed and teased him playfully about his dance technique. It was a game he knew well, and Jackson quickly won over a handful of them. He was pretty sure he was just a week or two away from them bragging about who he was hooking up with.

Having been an actor since he was just six years old, Jackson was no stranger to being adored. He'd charmed his parents, then his directors and choreographers. He was a child of many talents, excelling vocally and as a dancer. It was a natural extension that, as he got older, he charmed the girls. First, they would giggle and pass him notes during tutoring. As the years passed, he would sneak in kisses during intermission.

Eventually, he was using his charm to bring them back to his apartment or hotel room. Having never settled down, domestically, Jackson saw no reason to settle down romantically. He had become a bit more choosy over the years, and he took less risks. However, he still went through women like chewing gum. He saw his good looks and magnetic personality as a lucky gift and used them frequently. And usually, the girls he wanted were the girls he got. Briallen, however, just seemed annoyed.

The more he flirted, the more she pulled away from him. She wasn't even mildly impressed with his dimpled smile and his quick wit. Even when he switched from his rather playful, if somewhat crude, flirting, to complimenting her eyes, she cut him a disgusted look. When he stepped in a little closer than was necessary while they danced, she quickly restored the space between them.

"Come on," he teased her as they worked through _Jolly Holiday_, "Just relax. I won't bite you."

Briallen gave him another disdainful glance, "Mary doesn't relax. That's not the feeling I'm trying to communicate in this song."

Jackson rolled his eyes and then smiled, "I meant _you_ relax. It's just rehearsal. This choreography is supposed to be fun."

"It's also supposed to be sharp and correct," Briallen snapped back.

Jackson twirled her around, as he was supposed to, whispering, "But this is also the song where we see Mary let go and be a little spontaneous."

Still dancing, Briallen hissed, "I think you're supposed to be singing, not chattering in my ear."

On the next turn, Jackson whipped her around. However, instead of catching her in a solid frame, he took an extra step toward her so that she crashed into his chest. Pretending it was an innocent mistake, he laughed and put his arm around her waist so that she was pressed against him for a moment.

Briallen jerked away and stopped dancing. Taking a few steps away, she smoothed her hair back and straightened her ponytail. The music stopped and Brennen, along with their female dance captain, Laurie, gave them questioning looks. The rest of ensemble waited to see what had gone wrong.

"Something wrong?" Brennen asked, pushing his sandy brown hair back from his eyes and crossing his arms. Today, his classic good looks were only emphasized by his well-fitted dancewear.

Laurie looked on as well, eyeing Jackson with sharp features. Her hair was currently jet black and pulled into pigtails. She was almost Brennen's height, and she tended to emphasize the technical where Brennen wanted energy.

Laurie echoed Brennen, asking, "Is there a problem?"

Jackson gave an easy smile, "I don't think so."

Briallen gave him an irritated look, but said to Brennen, "We're just working out our differences. We're bound to have a few missteps."

Brennen smirked at Jackson, "Maybe you could try not to grope Mary Poppins? You'll scar the children."

Jackson laughed in return, and Briallen looked somewhere between mortified and angry.

Laurie, who wasn't so amused herself, said, "I think we've done enough with this for today. Kirkland wants to see you on the stage this afternoon to run the scenes with just the two of you, and the ones with the children. Take a break for a lunch. I think he wants you at one."

Briallen nodded, looking relieved.

Brennen and Laurie dismissed the rest of the cast from the choreography rehearsal, giving a quick nod to Kirkland O'Connor, their Production Stage Manager. Kirkland stood over six feet tall, with shaved, strawberry blonde hair and ruddy, freckled skin. He was lanky, with long limbs and a crooked smile. His light blue eyes were friendly behind trendy glasses, and he was well-liked by the cast. Kirkland got things done. He looked out for 'His Cast', as he called them. Now, he stood just inside the door of the rehearsal studio, watching the progress. Hearing Laurie's instructions, he indicated to Jackson and Briallen that he would see them in a bit and walked away with an easy stride.

Jackson nodded his understanding and then turned back to Briallen. Stepping just a little too close to her again, he said, "Don't be upset. I'm just trying to make this fun."

She backed away again, "If you don't mind, I like my personal space to stay that way."

Jackson stepped back, saying playfully, "I'm sorry. But, we're in this together. And it's a long show. We've got to trust each other. We should have fun."

Briallen met his eyes and said, "Trust? Absolutely. But, this?" she indicated how close he was,  
No. I'll see you after lunch, then," she walked briskly away.

Jackson watched her go, disappointed and further intrigued. As everyone else filtered away, he said to Brennen, "She is quite a ball of negative, isn't she?"

Having spent the previous night hanging out, they were even more comfortable with one another now.

Brennen chuckled, "I told you, she's weird. I've never met a girl who wouldn't at least flirt, even just a little."

Jackson gathered his things, saying, "I have. You're just used to dancers. Trust me, for every girl who wants to hook up with you, there's one who wants to kick you in the balls."

"That's one way to put it," Brennen chuckled.

Jackson shrugged, "Some of them are just crazy."

"I don't know if Poppins is crazy, but she's about as exciting as a napkin," Brennen commented.

"A little mystery is nice once in a while," Jackson mused.

"Whatever, man," Brennen laughed, "Whatever."

"Let's just get some lunch," Jackson decided, "I get to have more fun with Poppins in like an hour."

Brennen conceded, and the two of them headed out the stage door to the street.

A few blocks over, in a café facing one of Atlanta's downtown parks, Briallen and her closest friends were eating. It had turned out to be one of those early spring days in the Deep South when they all wished they could be outside, rather than rehearsing. The temperature had crept up just enough to make the bright, buttery sunlight feel warm and inviting. The trees in the park were just starting to sprout their leaves and the air had a hint of the promise of summer. Briallen was mourning the fact that she had to return to the dark theater to rehearse while the others contemplated hanging out in the park.

At the table with Briallen sat Allie, Laurie, and two more of the ensemble members, Kayla and Wren. The five of them had become very close over the past few months, and they often did things together outside of the show. However, they were something of an eclectic group.

Kayla and Wren were two of the older, more seasoned ensemble members in the company. They were some of the strongest vocalists, and Wren was Briallen's understudy. As Dance Captain, Laurie had to know all the show's tracks and keep all of the choreography sharp. Allie had a lengthy resume, having played several significant leads during her career. She was also a dancer herself. Compared to them, Briallen was young and fairly inexperienced. She was lucky, she knew, to have been cast as the lead in this show.

Somehow, though, she was far more comfortable with these women than with the other performers closer to her age. She just couldn't handle the behavior of some of the other girls. Briallen wasn't interested in drinking, partying, and casual relationships. So she gravitated towards these women who were either, married, committed to someone, or just done with youthful experimentation. They would occasionally tease her about needing to let loose and have fun, but they mostly understood her quiet nature. Or they chalked it up to her reserved, British upbringing. Either way, she appreciated them. And today was no different.

Sighing over her salad, Briallen asked, "Is it just terrible that I don't want to go back after lunch?"

Laurie cocked her head, her dark eyes concerned, "You love this part, Bray. You've never complained about rehearsal."

"I know. I think I was terribly spoiled by Carter. He was just such a gentleman," Briallen mused.

Allie smirked, "And, from what I understand, Jackson is…not so much?"

Kayla, who was tall, caramel-skinned, and had shaved her hair as short as she dared for the exotic look of it, snorted, "Jackson is to Carter what juice boxes are to fine wine."

They all laughed, and Wren nearly choked on her iced tea.

Trying to contain her laughter, Briallen said, "She's right, Wren. But don't forget, you'll perform with him as well."

Wren raised one perfectly shaped brow. With her chin-length, deep brown hair and steel blue eyes, she was the closest thing to Briallen's equal in the cast. She and Briallen looked and sounded very similar, in costume, but Wren was bolder.

"I'm not worried about Jackson Devereaux," Wren commented, "And he should remember that Mary is the character force in this show. 'Obnoxious' is not the vibe we want people to get from Bert."

Briallen said, "It's not just the obnoxious. He can't keep himself, to himself."

The others laughed.

"That's one way to say it," Kayla grumbled.

Allie finally spoke up, saying, "But, you have to admit, he is cute."

The others rolled their eyes.

"I'm just saying," Allie went on, "that he might just act this way when he's around new people. Some guys don't know how to do anything _but_ flirt."

Laurie cocked her head, "I suppose there's a chance that might be true."

They ate in silence for a moment, each of them considering the statement.

After another moment, Allie said, "You should flirt back with him, Bray. He'll get bored with it. In fact, it might make him get bored with it faster."

Briallen looked disgusted, "No. I won't stoop to that."

Laurie cocked her head, "I get your point, but a little flirting never hurt anyone."

"Why should I cater to him?" Briallen demanded.

"You're not," Wren spoke up, "You're just emphasizing to him what he can't have."

Briallen made face, "I don't even want him thinking about…having me."

Allie giggled, "You're so serious sometimes, Bray."

Briallen went back to eating, growing tired of defending herself.

* * *

Later that afternoon, for the first part of the second rehearsal, Jackson was much better behaved. Briallen wasn't sure if it was the presence of the children or the fact that he didn't have the whole cast as his audience, but he was calmer. They worked through the smaller, quiet scenes and the blocking that involved the four of them fairly quickly. Jackson showed that he did, in fact, know what he was doing. The children adapted quickly, and they all felt good about it.

When Kirkland dismissed the children and ran the scenes with just Bert and Mary, though, Jackson couldn't keep from teasing Briallen. It was as though it came as naturally to him as kindness and respect had come to Carter. Jackson stood too close, he touched too often, and he was too cocky for Briallen's taste. Even his acting, she thought, was heavy-handed.

It was altogether frustrating, and she complained about it to Allie that night after the show.

"I just, I can't imagine there being any convincing chemistry between us onstage," Briallen stated.

She was sitting on the couch in her apartment, her hair still wet from a lengthy shower. Allie brought her hot coffee, and they sat there in their pajamas.

Allie smiled, "I think the problem might be too much chemistry. From him anyway."

"And the wrong kind of chemistry, entirely," Briallen mumbled.

Allie thought for a moment, and then asked, "Why does it bother you so much?"

Briallen raised a brow, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Allie went on, "Certainly Jackson isn't the first guy who's ever flirted with you. He can't be the worst. I know Brennen tried something with you when you first met, and a couple of the other guys have asked you out. So why does it bother you so much?"

Studying her hands, Briallen thought for a long moment. After a time, she said, "I suppose…I'm not sure. It's partly because we have to be together so much. We're very dependent on each other, onstage. And, I'm just not comfortable with someone being so…forward."

"Is it different in Wales? Or London?" Allie asked carefully.

Briallen smiled, "Perhaps, depending upon where you go. I won't pretend that people aren't…hooking up, as you would say, left and right. I think the dynamic is a just a little more…subtle."

"Really?" Allie looked fascinated.

Briallen thought for a moment, "It's the difference between having someone whisper you a secret, as opposed to screaming in your face."

"Well, that's one way to put it," Allie smirked.

Briallen giggled, "It's the best way I know how to put it. I think that might be one of the greatest differences in our two cultures. You Americans tend to like everything bigger, louder, more obvious."

Allie pretended to be hurt, "Are we really so bad?"

Briallen gave her a look, "I never said 'bad'. You know that I'm having a glorious time. We're just, different."

Allie softened, "I'll give you that. I'm sure it would be culture shock for this southern girl to end up in Wales. It was hard enough doing runs in New York. Even that was culture shock for me."

Briallen smiled and sipped her coffee.

"Still," Allie went on, "when it comes to relationships, you have to have given in to some guy, at some point. Someone, along the way, must have been enough of a gentleman to win you over?"

Briallen understood the implied question, and she stared into her coffee cup.

"Come on," Allie pressed, "I won't tell anyone if you don't want them to know. But you have to have dated someone?"

Finally, Briallen gave in, saying, "Yes, there was someone."

"So, tell me about him," Allie pried.

Briallen shook her head, "It was nothing, really. We dated when I was at university, and I think we just…got tired of one another."

Allie cocked her head, "Just one guy? What about casual dates? Just for fun."

Briallen flushed a little, "That's really not, me. And I'm fairly certain my father and brothers would've strangled anyone who tried to be with me…casually."

Allie chuckled, "I sometimes wish I'd had a family like that. My mother did her best, but, I'll admit, I sowed my share of wild oats trying to make up for not having a father."

"Wild oats?" Briallen looked confused.

Allie smiled, "Americanism. Means I went out and acted crazy. Mostly with guys."

Briallen looked at her friend incredulously, trying to imagine the tall, slender Allie as an unsure young girl, sowing wild oats.

"It's true. But it's okay," Allie went on, "I've made peace with who I am, and who I was. I've been seeing Sam for over a year. I make much better choices, now. But there was a time when I would've melted in Jackson Devereaux's hands."

"Well, I'm glad you're past that," Briallen said with a hint of teasing.

Allie gave her a look, and then asked, "So, what made your dad and brothers accept the boyfriend?"

Briallen laughed, "His name was Charlie. And I think he was a lot like them. He's the manager of his family's fishing business, and he's very devoted to it. Meticulous, even. My parents have owned a restaurant for more than twenty years, now. My brothers are both part of it. They wanted someone hard-working and educated, for me. Charlie fit the bill, and I think they hoped he might influence me not to leave Wales to pursue acting."

"Ahh," Allie said, "the classic, 'parents want their child to settle down and have a real life' situation?"

Briallen smiled, "Somewhat. They always supported me. I was their little princess. I got dance and vocal lessons, and they always cheered me on. But, I suppose they thought I would outgrow it."

Allie laughed, "And we _never_ do!"

Briallen laughed with her.

After a moment, Allie said, "I'm guessing Charlie was too boring for you?"

"A little," Briallen answered.

"Maybe I'm proud of you for breaking up with him," Allie mused.

Briallen sipped her coffee and said, "I think, there just wasn't very much holding us together. We were just too different."

Thoughtfully, Allie said, "You shouldn't give up completely, though, Bray. Jackson might be a pig, but there's somebody out there for you."

Briallen thought about it, and then said, "It's just not that important to me, I suppose. I'll admit, when I started seeing Charlie, I was curious about being with a man. About having a relationship. But, the reality didn't turn out to be all that exciting. It didn't add that much to my life."

Allie studied her friend for a long moment, and then asked, "At risk of being crude, you didn't even enjoy making love with him?"

Briallen flushed and looked away. When she answered, she said, "It was all right. I just don't think it's all that people make it out to be. Excuse the pun."

Allie looked dumbfounded, "That sounds like it was an awful relationship."

Briallen shook her head, "No, it isn't. I love my life, and it's very full. I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me. I suppose I'm just, different. I don't need a fairy tale and prince."

"Or maybe," Allie met her eyes, "you've just never been with someone _you_ really wanted to be with. Dating someone your family picked, who's a cookie-cut of your father, can't do much for the romance."

Briallen looked upset, "You make me sound quite dysfunctional. I think I've had a good life."

Allie was quiet for another moment, and then said, "Just promise me something. If you come across someone who gives you that feeling in your gut, that stirring that makes you want to throw yourself in his arms, promise me you'll go for it. Don't be irresponsible, but be open to things being…different."

"I have to promise this?" Briallen raised a brow.

Allie smiled sincerely, "We've only known each other a few months, but I'm your friend, Bray. And friends make crazy promises and look out for each other."

Briallen studied her and saw the sincerity behind the humor, "All right," she said, "I think it's an entirely frivolous scenario, but I'll promise you that."

Allie nodded, sipping her coffee with a smile.

* * *

The following Saturday night, Jackson opened his first show with the Atlanta cast of _Mary Poppins_. Things went well, and Briallen breathed a sigh of relief when it was over. She was glad to have the initial cast change over with and to know that things would slowly fall into a rhythm. It might be a different rhythm than she'd had with Carter, but it would become natural and the show would still please audiences. And she had to admit, in spite of his bolder performance, they had liked Jackson. He had done a good job when the time had come.

Sitting in her dressing room after the show, Briallen felt content for the first time in a week. She'd made it through her first transition in a major production and she was finding her way in a different country, even without Carter. She also had Allie. So, all things considered, she decided she might've been a little harsh toward Jackson. Now that their first performance was over, she realized some of the stress was from her own worries. He was still entirely obnoxious, but Briallen might've been projecting some of her own trouble dealing with change onto him. So, as she removed her makeup, she wondered if she should be a bit more gracious towards him.

In considering the situation, she also realized what she missed about Carter. Briallen was not one to fall quickly for anyone. She'd meant what she'd said to Allie, that she was content with her life as it was. She was happy on her own. There had been moments, however, when she'd been afraid she might have feelings for Carter. The reality, though, was that he made her feel like she was home. He felt like family. He reminded her of all the things she cherished most. He'd made America less frightening, and she would miss that. Tonight, however, she finally felt like she could move on without him.

In good spirits, Briallen gathered her things and made her way out of the theater. She hated to admit it, but she was on the slow side when it came to getting changed and getting out of the building. When she came out of the stage door, Allie was waiting and watching Jackson sign a few autographs. They had all learned, even in just a few months, that there would always be die-hard fans who followed their favorite actors and knew exactly when cast changes occurred. And they would be outside the stage door waiting.

Having walked over to the theater together that day, Briallen knew that Allie was waiting for her to head home. Briallen hesitated, however, and Allie looked curious. Briallen said nothing and waited for Jackson to finish with the fans.

When they were gone and before he could walk away, she stopped him and said, "It was good, I think. The show. We did well, together."

It was her way of accepting him, if not liking him.

Jackson seemed to understand, and replied, "I knew you'd come around."

Still not wanting to flirt with him, Briallen said, "The audience liked you."

Jackson gave her a dimpled smile, "I can't blame them."

Feeling she'd said enough to make her peace, Briallen said, "We'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Before he could argue with her, she walked away, with Allie close behind.

The following week saw them settle into a routine, which was exactly what Briallen had hoped for. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked when things were consistent. It was a personality trait that ran in sharp contrast to what it took to be an actor. Briallen liked to think she spent all of her creative passion on stage. She liked her offstage life to be orderly and predictable. Jackson, however, proved he was as brazen and impulsive as she thought he was.

After just a week of performances, and two weeks into working with the cast, there were rumors that he was hooking up with Emily. She was one of the swings, and she was very young. Briallen and her friends assumed Jackson would be through with her in less than a week, and they hoped Emily realized it, too. They were all adults, however, and there wasn't much anyone could do if she didn't. Briallen felt a bit bad for her, though, and wondered how someone with such a sweet personality could fall for someone as obviously self-absorbed as Jackson. Still, she kept her promise to herself to be gracious toward him, if only by avoiding the subject of Emily.

However, as they went into their second Sunday night performance, Briallen was ready for a break. The weekend had been filled with gossip and corrections from Kirkland. No matter how comfortable she felt, he seemed to want to keep tweaking their performance. And Jackson was equally intent on paying more attention to Emily than to his corrections. So Briallen was ready for a day of rest. But first, there was the show.

That night, Jackson was in rare form. He held her hand just a touch longer than was necessary in _Jolly Holiday_, and spun her with more intensity than usual during _Step In Time._ His commentary offstage was especially brash as well.

While making one of their quick changes backstage, he whispered, "Well, Miss Poppins, I've been trying to get you out of those clothes for some time now."

Briallen cut him a disgusted glance and held her tongue.

It was during their final scene together onstage, however, that he crossed the line. When she leaned in to kiss him goodbye, Jackson let his upstage hand, which the audience could not see, slip from her side where it normally rested to her left breast. Certainly, he could've said that it was an accident and that he couldn't see where he was touching her because of their position. Briallen knew, however, that it was intentional. And she was livid.

When they came off the stage after curtain call, she didn't let him get out of the stage right wing before she stopped him. Calling his name, she approached him as he turned to face her. With a handful of cast members still watching them, she slapped him hard across the face.

"Don't ever," she said hotly, "touch me like that again! I do not play games onstage, and I did not invite you to grope me! As if you didn't already know, I take this part very seriously, and I won't have you throw me off like that!"

Jackson looked at her, intrigued and amused, "Relax, Poppins. I was just having fun. Maybe you take it _too _seriously."

Briallen stepped back and pointed a finger in his face, "And don't call me that!"

"Well," Brennen stepped up, having overheard the conversation, "if the boot fits…"

Briallen cut her eyes toward him, looking as though she might slap him as well.

Jackson chuckled, "This is a side of your character the audience would _love_ to see. Especially the children."

Unable to come up with a retort that was more than just obscenities, Briallen stomped off, absolutely disgusted.

Jackson was left standing in the wing with Brennen, smirking at Briallen's retreating back.

"Wow," was all he could say.

"Where did you touch her?" Brennen asked in disbelief.

Jackson smirked, "Left breast. When she went in for the kiss."

Brennen smiled and said, "Wow. Respect."

"She certainly didn't enjoy it," Jackson complained.

"Told you," Brennen replied, "she's uptight and untouchable. You'll never get through the ice on her."

Jackson cocked his head, "So you've tried?"

"I tried everything," Brennen answered.

"Why?" Jackson asked, curious.

"I don't know, maybe the novelty of it? So I could say I've had a British chick. And I thought she might tell me I've been naughty in that accent. Maybe order me around a little."

Jackson raised a brow, "You have a Mary Poppins fantasy? Seriously?"

Brennen crossed his arms, "Tell me it hasn't crossed your mind."

"Not until just now," Jackson answered.

"But you've got to admit…" Brennen started.

Jackson thought it over, "I can see the appeal now. Especially if she were wearing just those boots."

"Now we're on the same page," Brennen smirked, "It'll never happen, though."

Jackson cocked his head.

"Poppins is impossible. Just do the show and let her be."

Jackson started to smile, "That sounds like a challenge."

"What?"

"I bet," Jackson proposed, "that I can get her out of the corset, so to speak."

"Are you serious?" Brennen asked.

"Sure. Why not make things interesting. I'll put a hundred bucks on it," Jackson offered.

Brennen furrowed his brow, "How much time do you get?"

"Two months," Jackson stated.

Brennen chuckled, "That's a lot of time."

"I think we know I'm not going to win her over by proposing a one-night stand," Jackson argued.

"All right, fine," Brennen conceded, "Two months. But I want proof that it happened, and she has to look like she really, really wants it."

Jackson offered his hand, "Deal."

Brennen shook his hand, "And, if you happen to get any footage or pictures of her just wearing those boots…"

Jackson shook his head, "You have really thought this fantasy through, haven't you? You're really messed up, man."

"You can never say I'm not creative," Brennen threw out before walking away.

Jackson couldn't argue with that, and he didn't have time. He was going to find a way to fuck Mary Poppins.


	3. Chapter 3: Friends

**The unexpected snow day brings you more of this story. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Friends**

The following day, Allie and Briallen headed to Piedmont Park, determined not to waste another beautiful, almost-spring day indoors. The park was just a few blocks north of their apartment, which was in midtown and, in turn, just a few blocks north of the theater. It was a nice walk when the weather was good, and they took their time, sipping iced coffee that they'd picked up after lunch.

"I am eternally grateful for Mondays," Briallen mused, "It helps me recover from the weekend."

Allie smiled, "I bet we're the only people in the world who think that."

Briallen looked confused, "Why?"

"Because everyone else hates Monday. Monday is the most dreaded day of the work week," Allie explained.

"Ah yes," Briallen realized, "I suppose we're a bit backwards, we actors."

Allie laughed, "You're so funny. I bet you've never worked a Monday. You went right from school to the stage."

Briallen sipped the last of her drink, "I believe you're right."

As they reached the park, Allie led the way toward the swings. They tossed their empty cups in the trash and claimed two of them. They sat down, taking advantage of the sturdy, metal set while most children were in school. It was frivolous fun and a nice break from the pressure of performance. They let themselves be children for a little while, swinging in the cool, afternoon air. They stopped when a group of school children approached, looking confused to find adult women on their swings.

"Here you are," Briallen offered the swings back, "We were just being young again for a lark."

The children laughed, and one said, "You talk funny."

"Do I?" Briallen feigned ignorance.

"You sound like someone I've seen on TV," the little girl stated.

"Really? Who?" Briallen asked, expecting them to guess Mary Poppins.

"The fairy godmother from _Shrek_," the little girl answered decidedly.

Briallen laughed, "Well, I didn't expect that, but thank you."

The children giggled and then proceeded to fight over the swings. Briallen and Allie headed toward one of the park benches, where they plopped down and stared at the people around them.

"I hope they didn't think we were too off our trolleys," Briallen commented.

"The kids?" Allie asked, "Nah. They're kids. And everyone should get to be young again, once in a while."

"I suppose that's true," Briallen agreed.

"So," Allie asked as she stared up at the clouds, "Let's play Random Questions. What's your favorite childhood memory?"

Briallen crossed her ankles and looked at the sky, thinking, "Oh my, um, let me think," she considered the question, "I would have to say, summer at my Granny Llewellyn's. My brothers and I would go up there for at least a month every summer, while my parents went on holiday. Granny lives outside of Cardiff, to the north. Her house is a converted dairy barn, in the hill country. It's more than three hundred years old, and she has a few acres of land. Her neighbor has goats, and we would chase them and try to pet them. It's beautiful there, misty and mysterious, with the occasional day that was clear as heaven. I used to keep a notebook of stories about lords and ladies who might've roamed the land long ago. I would sit out in the fields for hours and write."

Allie listened, smiling, "You're so poetic, Bray. Sometimes, I wonder why you're just acting."

Briallen flushed, "What do you mean?"

Allie shrugged, "It just seems like you could write, or something. You're such a deep thinker."

Briallen blushed deeper, "It was just for fun, the stories. I was always off with the fairies when I was young."

"But if you love it, you should still do it."

Briallen thought about it, "I love this, too. I love to sing even more."

"The audiences can tell that," Allie admitted.

"So," Briallen changed the subject back, "it's your turn. What's your favorite childhood memory?"

Allie laughed, "Oh lord, I certainly didn't grow up in a Welsh, fairytale land."

Briallen gave her a look.

"Okay, maybe…going to the coast with my mother," Allie admitted, "Every year, she would save up and take me to Panama City for a few days. She would pick a cheaper motel so we could afford a room facing the ocean. We would get up early and watch the sun rise and look for crabs under the pier. We caught up with each other, on those trips. We talked about princesses and monsters and how hard writing in cursive was, and then later, boys and math homework and college."

Briallen smiled wistfully, "That must be nice, to be able to talk to your mum like that."

Allie smiled, "It always was. But you get along with your mom, right?"

"Of course," Briallen answered, "We just, we don't always get past the superficial. She's very private, my mum. She likes to cook, and she's brilliant at it, but she likes to be in the kitchen, just her and her food. It's hard to know, sometimes, what she's thinking."

"I see…" Allie replied.

"And, she had her hands full," Briallen went on, "with my brothers. They were always in mischief, but she adored them. And I was my father's little princess."

Allie shook her head, "I wouldn't know about that."

Briallen grew serious, "I'm sorry. I forget, about your father."

Allie smiled, "It's okay."

There was a quiet pause, before Briallen added, "I am sorry, though, that he wasn't in your life."

Allie looked at her hands, and then quietly stated, "You know, everyone assumes that he left my mother."

Briallen raised an eyebrow.

Allie went on, "When I talk about my life, people assume he walked out on my mom, but he didn't."

"No?" Briallen asked.

Allie shook her head, "No. He…he died. I was just three years old, and his plane went down in bad weather. He was a pilot, mostly small planes, regional stuff."

Briallen listened, and then said, "I'm so sorry."

Allie smiled, "It's okay. We've known each other for a while now, and it's just…something a friend should know about me."

Briallen nodded, humbled.

"And sharing that story makes me have to own up to my own mistakes," Allie went on, "I can't blame my troubles on feeling like my father didn't love me. I can't use that typical excuse."

"I'm sure you weren't that bad, Allie."

Allie rolled her eyes and laughed, "Oh, but I was. The moment I realized boys liked me, I was hooked. Without a father, I'd never had a man love me, respectfully. So, I let them use me. And then I used them. It was bad, and being an actor didn't help it much. But I straightened up a few years ago, when I had kind of a melt down."

Briallen chuckled, "You have such a way of putting things."

Allie smiled, "No reason to beat around the bush."

"I suppose not," Briallen smirked.

"You're just lucky," Allie concluded, "to have parents who adore you. It saves you a world of trouble."

"Perhaps," Briallen mused, "but there are negatives to being sheltered. For example, I was so terrified of coming to a new country that I threw up in the airport."

Allie laughed, "And that's why you have me! To make this crazy country seem friendly and awesome."

Briallen giggled, but then said, seriously, "You're a good friend, Allie. I imagine, if I'd had an older sister…"

Allie met Briallen's eyes, and then looked at the grass, embarrassed.

Briallen added, "I'm just saying, we haven't known each other that long, but you're one of the closest friends I've ever had."

Allie studied her, "Really? I would've thought, back home, for you…"

Briallen smiled, "I have a lot of acquaintances, being a performer, but very few close friends."

"Well," Allie struggled, "I'm honored."

Knowing Allie wasn't much for heavy sentiment, Briallen teased in return, "You're not too bad, I suppose, for an American."

Allie slapped her playfully and they stood, deciding to walk one of the trails around the park.

* * *

The next day, they were back at the theater once again. The rumors regarding Jackson and Emily were dying down, and they were all getting used to having him in their midst. The girls were less impressed or, at least, less vocal about it. Kirkland was leaving them fewer and fewer correction notes, and they only had one scheduled rehearsal that week. It was nice, Briallen thought, to be settling into things. She couldn't change the fact that Jackson was an obnoxious, presumptuous pig, but she'd done her part to be civil towards him. He, in turn, had tried to grope her.

Briallen was still livid about it, but she knew there was no reasoning with him. She'd had the satisfaction of slapping him, but she knew that was the extent of what she would get. She couldn't change his attitude or his beliefs. She couldn't make him understand respect or make him stop chasing the other dancers. So she tolerated him. She worked with what he gave her, onstage, and leaned on her professional training to make the performance work. And, as far as that Tuesday night was concerned, things went smoothly.

After the show, however, just as Briallen was picking up her bag to leave her dressing room, Jackson stopped by. He leaned against the doorframe of her dressing room, and said, "You were good tonight, Poppins."

She bristled, "I have asked you not to call me that."

"Why?" he asked, "It's not negative."

"It is when you use it," she retorted.

He smirked, "How do you know?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Because, Brennen started it. And Brennen thinks, pardon the expression, that I have a stick up my ass."

Jackson laughed as though she'd genuinely impressed him with her wit, and asked, "Well, do you?"

Briallen grit her teeth, "No, I do not. But I'm also not a slapper, if that's what you really want to know."

"What?" Jackson looked baffled.

Briallen rolled her eyes, "Tramp? Is that the word you use? Or perhaps easy?"

"Tramp? I haven't that in a while," Jackson smirked.

"Then insert whatever word suits you, but I don't get off with cast members."

"Get off?" Jackson questioned, "Is that a British saying for 'hook up'?"

Her temper flared, and Briallen spat, "Yes, I believe it is. I'm sorry I don't know all your ways of saying dirty things. Now would you kindly get out of my way?"

Jackson held his hands up, "Easy, Poppins. I was just chatting. I wouldn't bother if I didn't think you were cute."

Briallen stepped closer to him then and said, "You know, many of my friends back home warned me about boorish, piggish, far too forward, American men. I'd hoped to give you all the benefit of the doubt, but if you are an example of what your country has to offer, then I believe my friends' assessments were spot on. Now get out of my way!"

With that, Briallen shoved past him to get out the door. She passed Brennen in the hallway and gave him a menacing look as well before blazing out of the building.

Two days later, after their Thursday night show, Jackson let Brennen drag him out to _Trixx_ for drinks again. The crowd was sparse and the music was kept to a level that didn't encourage much dancing. However, there were still a few girls worth checking out, Jackson noted. Watching a specific blonde chat with her friend, he considered approaching her.

Brennen interrupted his thoughts with, "So, you don't seem to be getting anywhere with Poppins. I'm looking forward to claiming my hundred bucks," he smirked.

Jackson met his eyes, "I still have like, seven weeks."

"It wouldn't matter if you had seven years," Brennen stated.

Jackson sipped his drink, "I don't know. I think she was trying to apologize to me after one of the shows last week."

Brennen rolled his eyes, "That's only because she probably thought it was the 'proper' thing to do. She's like that."

"Like what?"

"It's like she has some kind of code of conduct or something. She'll be polite even if she hates you. It takes a lot to really make her mad."

"You mean like touching her breast during a show?" Jackson laughed.

Brennen snorted, "Exactly."

"It was almost worth being slapped," Jackson smirked.

"And it's as close as you're ever going to get, with her," Brennen added.

Jackson shook his head, "No, I'm going to win this."

"Whatever, man."

Jackson sobered, "I mean it. I'm just going to have to change my method."

"Meaning?" Brennen asked.

"Poppins isn't going to go for the stuff that usually works on girls. She's going to have to think we have a relationship," Jackson explained.

Brennen was incredulous, "That seems like a lot of work for a hundred bucks. Even for sex. I mean, a relationship? You could just pay me and save yourself the hassle."

"No," Jackson shook his head, "it's going to be worth it. And not just because I'll be taking your money."

"Well, once again, good luck with that," Brennen threw out sarcastically.

Jackson took a swig of his drink, "But for tonight," he smiled at the blonde across the club again, "I think I deserve a treat, after all the hard work and all."

Brennen laughed to himself as he watched Jackson saunter across the room. Then, he scoured the club for a conquest of his own.

"So," Allie stuck her head into Briallen's dressing room that Saturday afternoon, "I heard a rumor I think you'll find interesting."

Laurie stood on the other side of the doorway, smiling.

Briallen cocked her head and said, "I'm not much for rumors, you know."

Laurie smiled, "I think this is one you'll like, though. Come on, eat with us."

Briallen grabbed her purse and walked with them down the hallway, asking, "So, what's the big rumor?"

"We heard Kirkland talking with a journalist from the paper. They want to do a series of articles on the cast!" Allie whispered excitedly.

Briallen stopped just outside the stage door, thinking. Then, she said, "That is exciting, if it's true."

"I really think it is," Laurie added.

"It would be an honor to talk about what this part means to me," Briallen mused.

"I agree," Allie said softly.

"Of course, I'd hate for all of Atlanta to dig too deeply into some other people's personal lives," Laurie rolled her eyes, "Specifically, one Jackson Devereaux and one Brennen Strause. It'd be a shame for everyone to find out what a pig our Bert is."

Briallen sighed, "Maybe they'll behave. Or maybe those aren't the sort of questions this reporter is after. It would be nice to be part of a really well done, in-depth portrait of the show."

"It would," Allie agreed.

Just then, as they started to walk away from the theater, Jackson came out the stage door. Briallen tried to hurry away, but he caught her before she could round the corner. The others looked equally annoyed when he spoke.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" he asked Briallen.

She looked him over, "I really don't have time for another argument, Jackson."

He smiled, "I really just need a second, and I won't touch you."

Briallen sighed, and both Allie and Laurie looked skeptical.

Briallen finally said, "All right," and then to her friends, "I'll catch up. The sandwich place, right?"

Allie and Laurie eyed Jackson with disdain, and nodded. Then, they slowly headed down the street. Briallen crossed her arms and looked at Jackson impatiently.

"Look," he started, "I just wanted to apologize. Really apologize. I'm used to girls responding to me, and I've just been trying to get along with you."

"Get along?" Briallen looked incredulous.

"I wanted us to have chemistry onstage. And the way I usually go about that is by…"

"Going to bed with your cast mates?" Briallen spat.

Jackson gave a half-smile and shrugged.

"Look, Jackson, I understand that we have to perform together, and I will give it my best. You don't have to worry about getting poor reviews on account of me. I am a professional."

She started to walk away, but Jackson stopped her, saying, "I know that. I've seen how good you are. I just really hoped we would get along. I think it helps."

Briallen raised an eyebrow, "And sleeping with your costars helps you get along, usually? Because it seems like it would only make things awkward."

"You might have a point," Jackson conceded, "And I think it's more, the flirting. I'm used to that…working."

Briallen just stared at him impatiently.

Jackson sighed, "All I'm saying is, I'm sorry. I'm conceding the point. You aren't interested in me. It's okay. There's other girls out there," he held out his hand, "Do you think we could start over?"

Briallen considered him, and then begrudgingly took his hand, asking, "So, there will be no more groping? And no more crude flirting?"

"No," Jackson agreed.

Briallen nodded, "Well, I appreciate that. It's quite decent of you to apologize."

"Well, I try to be decent," Jackson laughed.

Briallen gave him a tiny smile, and then turned and walked away.

Jackson watched her walk away, and smiled to himself.

* * *

At the café a couple blocks over, Briallen finally joined her friends for a quick lunch between shows. She got a salad, which was generally her choice for show day food, and then sat down amidst the chatter. Kayla was complaining to the others about an argument her and her fiancé had had. Allie, who was very committed to her boyfriend, Sam, was listening with compassion.

After another few minutes, Wren asked out of curiosity, "Bray, what did Jackson want?"

Briallen sipped her soda and said, "He apologized, for behaving like an animal around me."

"Seriously?" Allie squeaked, "He apologized?"

"Yes," Briallen admitted, "I suppose he realized it was never going to work."

"Maybe," Laurie said skeptically, "or maybe he's already pissed off most of the cast and is trying to salvage his reputation."

"Seriously," Wren grumbled.

"I don't know," Kayla spoke up, "Emily is still babbling about him, and I think he's got something going with Melissa now. I also heard that some random blonde took a walk of shame out of his room last week. I don't think he's desperate for attention."

Wren shrugged, "I guess he could've been sincere, though. Maybe he doesn't want to spend the next year with a ball of tension between him and Bray."

"He seemed sincere," Briallen said softly, "Or, sincere enough, anyway."

"Don't tell me he's getting to you, Bray. Don't fall for that," Allie warned.

Briallen shook her head, "No, absolutely not. I think it's disgusting to use women the way he does. I'm just saying, if he wants to get along, I'll play nice."

There was a moment of silence.

"That's decent of you, Bray," Laurie commented.

Briallen smiled.

"But he's still a pig," Allie stated.

They all laughed, and then realized they had just fifteen minutes before they were due back at the theater.

* * *

The next day, just after the curtain call for the Sunday matinee, Jackson approached Briallen again. She was heading to her dressing room, still fully costumed. He had the hat from his costume in his hand as he addressed her.

"Briallen," he called.

She turned, pleased that he'd used her real name.

"Yes?" she stopped in the hallway, just beyond the stage right wing.

Jackson gave her an easy smile, "I was wondering if you would let me take you for lunch? Not as a date. Just as an official apology."

She raised an eyebrow, "Lunch?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, you know, after breakfast and before dinner. Lunch?"

Briallen smiled in spite of herself, "Thank you, but I usually go with Allie."

"I know," he went on, "but I just want to show you that I mean to be civil."

She wasn't convinced.

"Come on," he pleaded lightly, "it's just lunch. You pick the place. Just to show that I can be decent. And we both know you can slap me if I do anything wrong."

Slightly amused, Briallen finally agreed, "All right. One lunch, if only because I think of myself as a forgiving person."

Jackson smiled a wide, dimpled smile.

As Briallen stuck her head into Allie's dressing room to tell her friend where she was going, she didn't see Brennen eyeing them curiously. She didn't see Jackson give him a thumbs up and a satisfied smirk. Instead, she assured Allie that it was a platonic lunch and that they would talk later. Then, Briallen headed out with Jackson.

He took her to a little Italian restaurant just south of the theater, where the atmosphere was casual but the pasta was hand-made.

As they sat down, Jackson said, "I believe in good food. Cheap, good food," he smiled.

"I can't say I disagree," Briallen replied.

There was a moment of silence while the waiter brought them water and menus.

"So," Briallen spoke again, "what could you and I possibly have in common to talk about for an entire lunch? Or do you intend to spend the whole time apologizing to me again?"

Jackson laughed, "Am I that bad?"

"Truthfully?" Briallen stated, "Yes, sometimes."

Jackson looked hurt, "I like to think I'm attractive and fun."

Briallen rolled her eyes, "And you think that's all that matters?"

"What's wrong with being young and having fun?" he argued.

Briallen grew serious for a moment, "All right, since you asked, what happens when Emily, or Melissa, realizes you're through with them? What happens when they discover you're seeing both of them?"

Jackson studied her as though he were surprised she knew about who he was sleeping with. Then, he said, "I've never told them we were exclusive, or that I wanted something serious."

Briallen rolled her eyes, "And that's an automatic out?"

"Generally, yes," Jackson stated.

"Still, don't you think they'll be hurt?" Briallen asked seriously.

The waiter came, then, to take their order, and they both ordered basic pasta dishes in order to be back at the show on time. Meanwhile, Jackson thought over the question.

When the waiter walked away, he said, "Look, Melissa knows she's a hook up. She told me she doesn't want to be tied down. And Emily, she doesn't know what she wants. She's needy and a little whiny, but I've never committed to her."

Briallen cocked her head, "But don't you think she'll be hurt? When you get tired of her?"

"Maybe I won't," Jackson proposed.

Briallen gave him a knowing look.

Jackson sighed, "She'll get over it. If she wanted something serious, she should've made that clear. It's her own wrong assumption."

Briallen studied the table for a moment, and then said, "I suppose this is why I'm not attracted to you. You might be good looking, but this is why you put me off. I think using each other for meaningless flings is selfish. It only gets one person or the other hurt. So maybe you and I shouldn't talk about it, if we're to try to get along."

"Fine," Jackson agreed, "this is supposed to be my apology lunch, anyway."

There was a long, very quiet few minutes then. Eventually, their food came. They ate quietly, not sure what else to say to one another.

After a time, Briallen asked, "I suppose I could ask, where are you from?"

Jackson sipped his water and answered, "California, outside Sacramento. My parents moved to Los Angeles when I was little, though. They were both actors, and they wanted to put me in the business. I've been doing this since I was six."

"Wow," Briallen was genuinely shocked, "you've never had a normal life, then?"

Jackson laughed, "What's normal, anyway?"

Briallen cocked her head, "For me? Sitting in the Welsh old country, on hills that have seen more history than I can even imagine, writing stories or watching the farmers with their animals, feeling rather insignificant, in the bigger picture…"

For just a moment, Jackson seemed genuinely captivated by the description. When he spoke, however, he said, "I guess, for me, normal is being adored by an audience."

Briallen rolled her eyes, "Maybe that's part of your problem."

He cocked his head in question.

"You don't know how to be alone, to not be fawned over. But you should try it some time. You might learn something about yourself."

Jackson snorted, "Are you trying to make me look into my soul?"

Briallen said softly, "Perhaps."

"I'm good, thanks," Jackson smirked.

Finishing her pasta, Briallen said, "Jackson, I appreciate your apology and you trying to make nice, but I think it's clear we have very little in common. I don't approve of the way you treat women, and I'm sure I bore you. So, perhaps we should call this a truce and just focus on the show?"

Jackson studied her for a moment, and then looked a little wounded. Sobering, he finally said, "Fine. I really didn't expect to make you love me, but I really did hope we could be friends. Truth? You, and everyone, talk about how the reason you and Carter did so well together is because you were such good friends. Not lovers, friends. And I'll admit, that's foreign to me, with a girl. I started off trying to sleep with you, for the chemistry, and that didn't work. But I was hoping we could hang out and be friends. Maybe it sounds selfish, but I thought it would only help the show."

Briallen studied him for another minute, as though she were trying to decide if he was sincere. She struggled with herself for a few minutes. Finally, she said, "All right, then. I will try. If you can turn off the obnoxious, I will try to be your friend. A real friend."

Jackson smiled broadly and clinked his glass with hers in a toast.

On their way back to the theater, he sent a quick text to Brennen, saying, _Friendship established. Phase one complete. Get your money ready._

Brennen smirked, wondering if he might get a naked picture of Poppins, after all.


	4. Chapter 4: Coincidence

**Since this story is practically burning through my brain, you get another chapter. Hope you enjoy. And keep reading. :-)**

**Also...something cool about the Fox theater, in Atlanta...the ceiling in the house of the theater is made to look like a real sky. It can darken and lighten, even, so you feel like you're outdoors. The coolest part? When Mary 'flies' at the end, she actually flies into the night sky. Pretty awesome, I think.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Coincidence**

The following Wednesday morning, after their weekly polishing rehearsal, Kirkland asked the cast to stay for a few extra minutes. After they were all seated cross-legged on the floor or in the few chairs scattered around the room, he addressed them.

"I have an announcement that I hope you all will find exciting," Kirkland stated, "The _Atlanta Journal_ wants to do a series of articles featuring our cast. They would like it to be a multi-part story looking at the show from some of your perspectives, as well as that of some of the directors and technical crew. They think the public would be interested in getting an inside look at what it's like to be part of a show this size. Sort of a human interest story, if you will."

There was some whispering and excited chatter among the cast.

"The articles will be published over several weeks time, and will feature several of you individually. So," Kirkland explained, "I'll be approaching you, as needed, to set up times for you to meet with Jamie, the journalist who will be writing the articles."

Laurie raised her hand, "Do you know yet who she wants to interview?"

"Not yet," Kirkland answered, "But I'm sure Briallen and Jackson should plan on meeting with her at some point."

Briallen nodded demurely.

Kirkland went on, "I'm sure you can all imagine what an honor it is to have them focus on us, given all of the other artistic venues in the city. At a time like this, when the economy is struggling, this is an opportunity to boost ticket sales. Our show is popular, and we generally do well, but how long this company stays in Atlanta depends upon how long the city and the surrounding areas support us. We need to keep people interested, and having the paper feature us is a great way, so," he looked around at the cast, "It goes without saying that I need you to make us look good, and be on your best behavior."

Most of the cast members nodded.

"All right. I'll keep you posted. Now, get some rest before tonight's show," Kirkland dismissed them.

There was a spattering of excited discussion as they all gathered their things and made their way out of the rehearsal studio.

"So," Allie elbowed Briallen on their way out, "Looks like you're going to be in the paper. Again."

Briallen smiled, "Not just me, the whole company."

Allie rolled her eyes, "You know it's you they want most, though. There's just something about Mary Poppins."

"I suppose," Briallen conceded, "And I'm honored to portray her. If there's anything I could tell the audiences, it would be that."

Allie chuckled, "They're going to love reading about you, Bray. You are so Mary. I would call you Poppins if Brennen hadn't ruined it already."

Briallen swatted Allie and chuckled, "I would be honored to talk about being Mary, especially if it keeps them coming to the show."

"It will," Allie assured her, and then led the way back to their apartment for the afternoon.

* * *

Over the course of the next week, as March became April, the weather took a sudden turn toward spring. The foliage filled out, making the park lush and green, and the Bradford pear trees that lined the streets opened their bright, white blossoms. The dogwoods bloomed pink and white, and the peach trees started to promise sweet fruit. The sky stayed a clear, impossible blue for several days, and Briallen and her friends spent most early afternoons lounging in the park before their performances. Allie begged Briallen to try to for a real, southern American suntan. Briallen had laughed, because she was impossibly fair, with a smattering of freckles across her shoulders, and was certain she would burn.

As they headed into the theater for their Wednesday rehearsal that week, Allie said, "Just think, you have a whole summer of southern American sunshine to look forward to. Maybe we'll even make it to the beach sometime."

Briallen laughed, "Allie, I'm Welsh, and I'm red haired. My skin goes straight from pasty to burnt without stopping at tan. And then I just end up with more freckles. I'm just glad they're not all over my face. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Allie laughed, "Then maybe we'll just pack sun block for you?"

Briallen giggled, and then two of them entered the rehearsal studio.

For the next few hours, the cast worked through the spots Kirkland felt needed polishing, including running the numbers affected by the absences they would have that week. There was rarely a performance where they didn't have at least one substitution, and the swings needed to go through the tracks they would be covering. After rehearsal was complete, Kirkland asked them all to stay for a minute, and he introduced the petite brunette woman who'd come into the studio.

"This is Jamie," he said, "She's from the _Journal_, and she'll be writing the series of articles on us over the next few weeks. She'll be meeting with Briallen today to get started, and will eventually work with more of you. I hope you'll introduce yourselves, and make yourselves available as needed. Jamie," he turned to her, "this is the Atlanta cast of _Mary Poppins._"

Jamie, who had very short, dark hair and a friendly smile, said, "It's good to meet you all, and I'm looking forward to speaking with you. I think the readers will enjoy learning more about you and the show you perform every night."

Kirkland dismissed them then, and only Briallen lingered behind.

When the others were gone, Jamie offered her hand and said, "Briallen Griffith?"

Briallen shook her hand and answered, "If you like."

"Jamie Sturgis. I appreciate your making time for this," Jamie stated.

"Of course," Briallen smiled, "I'm honored that you think people will want to read about us."

Jamie smiled, "So, where do you want to go?"

Briallen was momentarily confused, "Go?"

"Sure. The paper will pay for lunch, while we talk," Jamie explained.

"Oh, well," Briallen thought, "there's a café just up the street. We go there between shows, sometimes."

Jamie nodded, "After you, then."

Briallen lead the way out of the theater and down the street to _Miko's_, a little spot that was on her list of good places to go between shows. She and Jamie found a table outside and ordered a light lunch. Then, Jamie got down to business.

"So," she said, "let's start with the basics. You're Briallen Griffith, originally from?"

"Wales," Briallen smiled, "Just west of Cardiff, Wales."

Jamie made sure she'd spelled Briallen's name correctly, and then said, "I'm sure you hear this constantly, but your accent is just beautiful."

Briallen smiled, "I do, and thank you."

"But," Jamie went on, "I have to admit, I wouldn't have recognized you as Mary Poppins, otherwise."

Briallen laughed, running her hand through her tumbling waves of red hair, "I get that a lot, too. I do look entirely different, out of costume. Who would imagine a red-haired Mary Poppins? And I'm a bit shorter than most people expect, I know. Most people at the stage door recognize me only by my voice."

Jamie smiled, "Is it all right if I use that?"

"Certainly," Briallen agreed, "I think it's a testament to what costuming and makeup can do."

"True. But there must be something of you in this part. Let's start with that," Jamie asked, "What drew you to this role?"

Briallen thought for a moment, and then answered, "Well, first, I never imagined I would be cast in this part so young. I don't have the extensive resume that even some of the others in this cast have. So I was a bit overwhelmed by the whole idea of it, of leaving my country and coming here to perform. But, once the shock wore off and I delved into the character, I realized how much I love Mary."

"And why is that?" Jamie asked.

"Because, there's no pretense with Mary," Briallen explained, "She means what she says, and she says exactly what's on her mind. People will find that, in this stage version, Mary is more brutally honest. But her intentions are honorable, and she tries to be virtuous. And she's a good role model, I think."

"How so?"

Briallen explained, "Well, at risk of sounding old-fashioned, we're surrounded by women who feel they have to be nearly naked to get what they want, to be noticed. Mary doesn't have to do that. Mary Poppins draws people to her just because of who she is. She's captivating and strong, but still feminine, all without showing so much as an ankle."

Jamie smiled and nodded, "That's a good point, I'll admit."

"I also love the bit of mystery about Mary," Briallen admitted, "Not knowing where she comes from, wondering what she really thinks about Bert. It's a challenge, trying to understand her."

Jamie scribbled on her notepad, and then said, "On that note, you've just gotten a new Bert, correct?"

Briallen hesitated, and then nodded, "Yes, Jackson joined us about three weeks ago."

"I imagine that must have been hard, changing out such a major role?"

Glad that she hadn't asked a more personal question, Briallen answered, "It was, and we miss Carter, but Jackson has done very well."

"That's good to hear," Jamie smiled, "Now, we'd like to let our readers into your lives a little, in this series. They've read great reviews about the show, and a lot of them have seen you onstage. But we want them to see behind the curtain, so to speak. And please don't think I mean gossip, just stories they can relate to, as people. So, tell me a little more about coming here from Wales and opening here in Atlanta."

Briallen thought for a moment, and then proceeded to tell Jamie her story. She explained about auditioning in London and then again in New York. She told how she'd assumed it would all just be for the experience, since she wasn't old enough or seasoned enough to play such a major role. She chuckled a little as she told how shocked she was when she found out she'd been cast, and how her mother had cried at the idea of her leaving Britain. Briallen even told the story about throwing up after getting off the plane at JFK. Finally, she told some funny stories about rehearsals and navigating a new country. She smiled as she talked about working with Carter, and how it had helped to have a fellow Brit as her costar.

"Carter, I believe, made everything a bit less scary," Briallen explained, "But I'm finding my way, now. And we're fairly close, as a cast. I have made some dear friends, and that's part of what makes this job, this lifestyle, so interesting. Each cast you work with, especially on these long runs, becomes like a second family. You make lasting friendships. You work together, eat together, laugh together, cry together. You get sick together…"

Both of them laughed at that, understanding the obvious downfalls to spending so much time with the same people in such a small space.

"And Allie, our Winifred Banks, is my dearest friend, here. I think audiences might enjoy that."

They talked a little more, and Briallen finally concluded the interview with, "If I could tell my audience anything, it would be how much I truly love this part. I believe in Mary, in all that she represents. There's just something about her. When I get the entire costume on, with the hair and the hat, and when I put the coat over all of it and look in the mirror, I see Mary Poppins, with just a hint of me mixed in. And I think it's a lofty aspiration, to want to be like Mary. She's honest and well-spoken, if a bit prickly, and she's true to herself. She doesn't need anyone else to complete her, and that's nice. So I'm honored to bring her to life."

Jamie listened, and then cocked her head, saying, "You have quite a way with words, Miss Griffith. As a writer, I'm impressed."

Briallen blushed and looked at her hands, "I just say what I think, the way I think it."

"I have to admit," Jamie put down her pen, "I expected something different from the lead actress in such a major show."

"Oh?" Briallen asked softly.

"Excuse my stereotypical thinking, but I thought you'd be more…self-absorbed," Jamie admitted candidly.

Briallen cringed momentarily, imagining what this reporter would think of Jackson, or Brennen. Then she smiled, proud of the way she had come across in the interview.

"I'm just a person doing what I love," Briallen said softly.

Jamie smiled, "Can I use that quote as well?"

"Certainly," Briallen agreed, smiling.

"Now, I have to ask, what's your favorite part of the show?" Jamie inquired.

Briallen smiled and look down at her hands again, and then answered, "Truthfully? I love the flying. As much as I love to sing and dance, I love the flight. There's something about leaving the ground like that. And I get to do it three times in this show. Perhaps it's a leftover dream from childhood, fulfilled. I always did want to be able to fly."

Jamie smiled and wrote furiously. Then, she asked, "Was it scary, at first?"

"Maybe a little," Briallen admitted, "I'm something like forty or fifty feet up at the end, but it's more thrilling than scary."

"Better you than me," Jamie chuckled, "I'm terrified of heights."

They both laughed, and then chatted for a few more minutes before wrapping up. Jamie concluded by asking, "Do you think I could get some pictures of you getting ready for the show tonight? Sort of a before and after series?"

Briallen smiled, "Of course, as long as Kirkland is okay with that."

Jamie nodded, and agreed to get permission for the pictures.

So, later that evening, just before the performance, Jamie and a photographer were in Briallen's dressing room taking a series of pictures of her transformation from Briallen Griffith into Mary Poppins. Briallen explained things as she went along, describing how many layers of costuming it took to become Mary, including three pairs of stockings and a flying harness. She explained each of the three 'flights' she made through the course of the show and showed them her 'flying coat' and her umbrella.

"This show," she explained, "is really quite a marathon. I cover several dance styles, from ballroom to jazz to complicated tap in _Step in Time_. And then there's _Supercal, _whatever style you might call that,"she laughed to herself, "All while wearing layers and layers of clothes. And then there's the singing and trying to capture this character that is so beloved to so many people," she smiled, "It can be terribly difficult, but I do love every minute."

Jamie continued to write. The photographer started to take some of the final photos when Brennen walked by the door. Leaning against the frame for a moment, he teased Briallen by saying, "Don't break the camera, Poppins."

Briallen, not wanting to show her true feelings in front of the media, gave him a tight smile and said nothing.

Jamie smiled and asked, "Poppins?"

Wanting to strangle Brennen, Briallen said, "It's something of a nickname."

Still leaning against the doorframe, Brennen added, "It just seemed to…fit."

Jamie laughed, and said, "That's cute."

Briallen grit her teeth, kept smiling, and said, "I suppose there could be worse names."

Brennen smiled broadly and said, "Briallen is, in fact, practically perfect. That's why we keep her around and call her Poppins, even offstage."

Thinking they were just witnessing friendly banter, the photographer and Jamie both laughed. Briallen, however, silently thought of ways to kill Brennen. Still, she kept a smile on her face.

When Jamie and the photographer had left and it was time to perform, Briallen was proud of what she'd done. She thought she'd come off well to the press, and she hoped the article would inspire more people to come see the show. Briallen was pleased, and she looked forward to what Jamie Sturgis would write.

* * *

The next day, as the warm weather continued, Briallen decided to go back to _Miko's_ for lunch. She and Allie tended to make the rounds of the local restaurants rather regularly, since it was simpler than cooking for two. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, however, Briallen usually made a sandwich at the apartment. On those days, Allie took a yoga class. That Thursday, though, since it was so beautiful outdoors, Briallen decided to hit the café again. They had light, healthy options that were homey enough that she didn't feel like she was overdosing on restaurant food.

She was sitting at a table outside, reading a book by the bright sunshine, when a voice broke her concentration, saying, "I'd know that silhouette anywhere."

Recognizing the statement as a line from the show, Briallen looked up into Jackson's face. He was leaning on the chair opposite her at the table, smiling.

Trying to be polite, she said, "It's me."

"What a coincidence, huh?" Jackson replied.

Briallen cocked her head, "Not especially, considering I live four blocks from here and this is on your way to the theater."

Jackson pretended to be hurt, "I was just being friendly."

Briallen gave him a little smile, "I'm sorry. I was just…reading."

Jackson pulled out the chair he was leaning on and sat down, "Come on, surely you'd rather have some company than bury your face in a book?"

Briallen met his eyes again, "Actually, I generally prefer the book."

Sobering a little, Jackson said, "I really thought you'd stopped hating me."

Closing her book, Briallen sighed and said, "I don't hate you, Jackson."

"Then, can I join you for lunch?" he asked.

Remembering her promise to try to be friends, she conceded, "All right. But did you not have to be somewhere?"

"I just came from my interview with Jamie, at the theater."

"Oh," Briallen answered, "And how did it go?"

Jackson smiled, "Fine. I said some nice things about you."

"Oh?"

"Yep. I said that, most of the time, you don't entirely suck."

Briallen narrowed her eyes, "You did not."

Jackson laughed, "Don't freak out. I said that you're incredible onstage. I said you bring Mary to life in an amazing way."

In spite of herself, Briallen flushed. Even knowing how pretentious and self-absorbed Jackson was, she was flattered.

Jackson ran a hand through his wavy, dark hair and looked her over with warm, dark eyes that could melt steel, and said, "I'm not the complete ass you think I am."

Briallen studied him for a moment, and said simply, "Thank you, then."

Jackson took a moment to order a sandwich, while Briallen nibbled at her salad. Then, after a few minutes, he asked, "So, why are you eating by yourself?"

Briallen smiled, "Because I enjoy it, and, because Allie has yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"I see. And yoga isn't your thing?"

Briallen shook her head, "No, although I do take ballet and tap. But, really, for exercise, I like to run."

Jackson looked at her, intrigued, "Really? So do I."

"Well, then I suppose we might have one thing in common."

"Is that so bad?" Jackson asked.

Briallen gave him a look, and continued, "I like to go to park at mid-morning and run the trails. It's soothing. It helps me relax."

"Wait, you relax? Really?" Jackson teased.

Briallen sighed, "Do you ever stop harassing people?"

Jackson stopped smiling and studied her for a moment. Then, he confessed, "Look, I'm sorry. It's second nature."

Briallen raised an eyebrow.

"And," Jackson went on, "I only do it to girls I'm attracted to."

Briallen was taken aback, "I thought you agreed to stop flirting?"

Jackson sipped his drink, "That wasn't flirting. That was me attempting to be honest. I think you're gorgeous, and fascinating. Is that wrong?"

Briallen stared at him, trying to decide how to respond.

Jackson went on, "I'm just being honest, which is what you asked for. It's a compliment, Briallen. I get that I came on strong and pissed you off, but I was just attracted to you."

She flushed again, and looked at her hands. Eventually, she said, "I suppose that's not entirely terrible."

"I'm keeping my word, though, to stop hitting on you. I'm sitting here as your friend, so just talk to me."

Briallen finally smiled, "You know, as hard as it is for you to…restrain yourself, it's hard for me to be open. I'm a private person."

"I get that," Jackson flashed his dimples, "So, tell me something safe. Tell me about your family."

"Really?" she asked.

"I've got nothing else to do," Jackson said, still smiling.

Realizing, in spite of herself, that this is how she and Carter became friends, Briallen conceded. She took a few more bites of her lunch and told him about her family back home. She talked a little about her Welsh upbringing and the people and things she missed most. And she was surprised, because Jackson actually listened. He asked questions and seemed genuinely interested in her story.

When she finished, he said, "I have to say, that's a lot more interesting than my life."

Briallen smiled, "I'm sure it's not. My family is very average, really."

"My parents are very crazy," Jackson added.

Laughing, Briallen said, "I have to know, why did you wait until after you made me dislike you to show this side of yourself? Why not lead with this?"

Jackson smiled, "Because most girls aren't interested in my life story. They pretty much just want to know if I'm interested in them."

"That's so shallow," Briallen looked away.

Jackson shrugged, "Maybe. But, come on, who doesn't want a bunch of hook ups without all the relationship hassle?"

Briallen frowned, "I don't. I told you, it's selfish. And, really, I'm fine by myself. I don't have much use for dating."

Jackson looked shocked, "That seems…lonely."

"Not really. I have good friends. What more do I need?"

After a long, quiet moment, Jackson said, "I guess men and women are just…different."

"Perhaps," Briallen replied, "But I'm saying, just like I don't need a…hook up, I don't need a relationship, either."

She looked at Jackson pointedly.

He gave her another dimpled smile, "I'm really just trying to be your friend, Briallen."

The waiter brought their tickets, then, and Jackson went on, "And to show it, I'm not even going to offer to buy your lunch," he slid hers toward her, "See? Friends. Paying for their own stuff."

Briallen laughed in spite of herself.

* * *

The next few days were a perfect example of the unpredictable weather in the Deep South. The temperature dropped once again and a steady, drizzling rain fell. For Briallen, it was reminiscent of home, where long bouts of cold, wet weather were common. For the rest of the cast, however, it damped the spirits of those who thrived on southern sunshine. It also brought in wet, late audiences to the show, which was always more difficult.

Sunday morning, however, the sun finally pushed its way through the heavy clouds. It made for a beautiful sunrise, with the morning light coming from behind the lingering clouds in shades of purple and rose. Briallen found herself awake a little earlier than usual and took her time sipping coffee while Allie slept on. Then, because she'd been cooped up for several days, she pulled on some sweats and decided to head to the park. She'd meant what she'd said to Jackson about enjoying running, and she was ready for the rush it brought her.

So she left quietly, as not to disturb Allie, and walked the few blocks to the park. Reaching the head of one of the trails, she stretched her legs and then set off at a medium pace.

After about thirty minutes, she came around a curve in the path that wound close to the pond. As she got closer, she realized that Jackson was seated on one of the benches by the trail. Surprised, she stopped and smiled at him.

When he met her gaze, she asked, "Another coincidence?"

Jackson smiled, "No. I live five blocks from here and it's the only park within walking distance."

"Point taken," Briallen smiled.

"But, I have to admit," Jackson said, "I was hoping you'd be here."

Briallen crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Jackson stood and unfolded the newspaper he was holding, "Our first article came out today. I got it first thing this morning."

Realizing she'd forgotten the date the series was supposed to begin, Briallen took the paper from him. He'd opened it to the entertainment section, where she was featured on the cover. Jamie had used two pictures, showing her as she looked arriving at the theater and then fully costumed for the show. Inside, the article opened the series by describing Briallen's daily transformation. Jamie also introduced some of the other cast members and focused on Jackson's recent inclusion in the cast. It was good, Briallen thought, and it was more than just typical show promotion. Jamie had captured what it meant to be a performer, and she'd communicated what Briallen had said about what the role of Mary meant to her. Briallen stopped, however, when she got to a quote from Jackson's interview:

_This role has stretched me, because it's not a typical male lead. Bert does not lead Mary, or even always understand her. He's in awe of her strength, her poise, her commanding presence, and her tough love. Bert cannot charm Mary, although he tries. And I have to admit, I'm used to playing roles where I win over the girl. That's not the case, with Mary. I get to be charming, but I don't get the girl. _

After reading it over, Briallen met Jackson's eyes. She gave him a soft smile, and said, "That's quite nice. That was an altogether decent thing to say."

Jackson shrugged, "I can be decent."

Briallen read over the rest of the article, and then asked, "Can I keep this?"

"Sure," Jackson smiled, "I got two," he showed her the other copy.

Briallen smiled and started to jog back down the path.

Jackson followed, and asked, "Can I join you?"

"Sure," Briallen agreed.

The two of them jogged down the path together, newspapers in hand.

* * *

"So," Allie asked the next morning, over cereal, "what do you want to do for your birthday?"

Briallen looked up suddenly, furrowing her brow, "What?"

"Two days from now. Your birthday. Name an activity," Allie instructed playfully.

Briallen rolled her eyes, "Must we?"

"You're twenty-six, Bray. Birthdays are still supposed to be fun."

"I hate big, loud parties, Allie. How about…brunch? Just the girls?"

Allie thought it over, and said, "I guess that's acceptable."

Briallen giggled, "It's good to know you approve. But, don't tell anyone else!"

"So, your birthday is a secret?" Allie smirked.

"I just don't want to be out drinking at midnight. That doesn't sound like birthday fun, to me," Briallen answered.

"I think they all know, Bray. We have a birthday chart on the wall at the theater," Allie deadpanned.

Briallen locked eyes with Allie and said, "Well…damn."

Allie broke into laughter, "Lovely word choice."

Briallen ran her hands through her hair, which was being rather unruly that morning, and said, "Fine. Everyone knows. Still, no parties."

"No parties," Allie reluctantly agreed, and they finished breakfast in comfortable silence.

* * *

That Wednesday, true to her word, Allie took Briallen to brunch with their closest friends. They laughed, ate, and lingered over their food for much longer than was necessary. They talked about the show, their relationships and families, and complained about the somewhat manic weather. It was all around good girl talk, and Briallen was grateful.

Then, she and Allie went for some girl time at a local spa. They got their nails done and splurged on massages. It was a blissful day, and Briallen was in a good mood when she got to the theater. To top it off, her face spread into a broad smile when she found a bouquet of wildflowers in her dressing room. She was reading the card, which was from the entire cast and crew, when Jackson knocked on the door of her dressing room.

When she turned, he handed her a takeout coffee cup and said, "Happy Birthday."

She looked at him in confusion and asked, "What's this?"

"Toffee mocha, with extra whipped cream," Jackson explained.

Briallen smelled the rich, warm aroma of her favorite drink, from her favorite place, and couldn't hide her pleasure. Looking at Jackson, she asked, "How did you know that?"

Jackson smiled, "I asked around."

"That's…nice of you," Briallen offered.

Jackson gave her another heart-melting smile, "Maybe you can forget that I touched your breast, now? For good?"

Briallen was taken aback, but then laughed in spite of herself, "I'll consider forgiving you."

Jackson kept smiling.

He turned to go, but Briallen added, "Thank you, Jackson. This really was kind."

He shrugged, "It's just what friends do."

As he walked away, Briallen sipped the warm, sweet concoction in a moment of pure bliss.

After a moment, Allie knocked on the door. Seeing the cup, she said, "Coffee? And you didn't ask me?"

"It's from Jackson," Briallen admitted.

Allie looked shocked, "Wait, the person who makes me want to vomit? The guy you slapped?"

Briallen gave her a look, "He's been decent, lately. I think he feels badly."

Allie snorted, "I bet all the sex with Emily and Melissa helps."

"I didn't say I approved of everything he does," Briallen corrected, "I said he's been decent."

Allie raised an eyebrow, "He's not getting to you, is he? Tell me you're not falling for that."

Briallen shook her head, "Of course not, but I'm not going to say no to friendship. I'd rather have a friend onstage than someone who makes me nauseous."

"I guess he has chilled out a little since that first rehearsal. Maybe he just handles new groups of people by being an ass," Allie proposed.

"I thought that, too," Briallen admitted, "And I told him I don't agree with how he uses women. But, if he wants to get along, it makes my life easier."

"I can understand that," Allie said, "And that was a decent gift. I would've pegged him to try to give you something totally inappropriate, like underwear."

Briallen raised a brow, "Underwear? Like knickers?"

At that, both of them laughed heartily.

After the show that night, at a different club this time, Brennen said to Jackson, "I have to admit, Poppins seems to be giving you fewer dirty looks lately."

Jackson smirked, "Are you seeing your hundred bucks disappearing already?"

Brennen laughed, "Hardly."

Jackson gave a cocky smile, "These things take time, man. I have to make her want me on her terms. Luckily, I know just how to do that."

"Whatever, man. I still say, the moment you make a move, she's going to slap you again. She's smart enough to realize what you've been doing."

"That's why," Jackson explained, "I have to get her to make the first move, or at least to want to."

"Again, that's way too much work," Brennen scoffed.

"Not really," Jackson argued, "It just takes some thought. I show up where she is. I do what she likes to do. It's not hard to figure out. She eats lunch by herself on Tuesday and Thursday. She runs in the morning. She likes mystery novels and coffee from _Steam. _It's not rocket science. And the challenge is kind of exciting."

Brennen gave him a disbelieving look, "You sound like a recording of a bad movie. A bad romantic comedy."

"Doesn't matter, if it works," Jackson retorted.

And Brennen could think of no argument.


	5. Chapter 5: Roses

**I give you two chapters, this time, because all of this came out at once. Enjoy. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Roses**

Over the next couple of weeks, Jackson found every opportunity he could to run into Briallen. He pretended that it was coincidence, or just a result of them getting along better, but he planned each meeting very carefully. He paid attention to her likes and dislikes. He tried to remember details about her and her life. It was difficult, sometimes, but Jackson was fueled by the challenge of it all. He'd always enjoyed going after girls who played hard to get. It made things more interesting, and Briallen was becoming more and more interesting as time passed. The challenge made him want her more. The idea of being with her was now such an enticing, forbidden fruit to Jackson that he was focusing solely on her. He'd even broken things off with both Emily and Melissa.

Neither of them were thrilled, especially Emily, who had whined about trying to 'work on their relationship'. Jackson had rolled his eyes at the fact that she'd considered hooking up a few times a 'relationship'. And he'd had to listen to her whine for about an hour. He'd walked away mostly unscathed, though, and could now focus his attention entirely on Briallen.

Jackson made sure to spread the rumor that he'd ended things with the other girls, hoping Briallen would hear of it. To some of the ensemble members, he sold a story about how he was a little tired of 'meaningless relationships', and how he thought he might take a break from it all for a while. Briallen surely heard it, and Jackson felt like the celibacy was, eventually, going to be worth it.

However, Brennen continued to harass him fairly regularly, determined that, even though Jackson might have been able to befriend Briallen, he would never get her in bed. Jackson let the teasing roll off of him, allowing it to serve only as motivation. He was determined to win this bet, and, as things progressed, he wanted to win for more than just his hundred dollars. He wanted to win for more than just keeping his pride. Jackson was growing more and more interested in Briallen herself, and he was becoming obsessed with the idea of conquering her. As he got to know her, he sensed there was a deep pool of untapped, raw passion just waiting to be released. He wanted to be the one to help her discover that. Selfishly, he was driven by the idea of her giving in to him and by the fantasy of her being at his mercy.

So, with all of that on his mind, Jackson set himself up to run into Briallen again as she went running through the park. It had been almost two weeks since her birthday and she had become significantly less hostile towards him in that time. On his way, he picked up a copy of the day's paper, knowing that another installment of Jamie's article would've come out. He was making it a routine, finding Briallen in the park and then reading the paper together.

By that Sunday morning, the weather had become significantly, and consistently, warmer. The sun was making its way from behind some streaking clouds and hinted at a day that might be warm enough for summer clothes. And, as always, Briallen came jogging along the path by the pond just as the sun was moving higher in the sky.

Jackson waved to her from his place on one of the benches and held up the entertainment section of the Sunday paper. As Briallen approached, he said, "This week's installment is good. She talked about the diversity in the cast."

Stopping, Briallen smiled and took the copy of the paper he handed her. Reading over it, she agreed, "This is well done. I love how she let each person talk about their journey to America in their own words. And Trina's story is just so touching."

Jackson nodded, even though he'd never paid much attention to what the former Haitian, Trina, had said about her life.

As she kept reading, Briallen added, "She has such a tragic story. It's just so good to see her getting to do what she loves."

Jackson skimmed the article again, reading about how Trina's family had been killed due to violence in her native Haiti. He read that she'd come to America to live with her immigrant grandmother, who had realized Trina's talent and encouraged her to pursue a career onstage. It was the first time Jackson had really learned something about a female cast member he wasn't sleeping with.

Then, watching Briallen read as well, he stated, "She covered your story in more detail, too. It's hilarious that you threw up in JFK."

Briallen gave him a disgusted look, "I suppose it's my first reaction to overly stressful situations."

Jackson laughed lightly.

Briallen finished the article with a pleased smile on her face. Then, there was a quiet moment when the two of them just stood there together.

After a minute, Jackson asked, "Speaking of being new here, have you seen much of Atlanta since you've been here? Outside of the ten blocks around the theater?"

Briallen raised an eyebrow, "Are you offering to show me around?"

Jackson laughed, "Not really. I'm asking for myself. You forget, I'm in a new place as well. My home is in California, and I've performed in a lot of places but I've never been based here."

Realization colored Briallen's face, and she said simply, "Oh..."

Smiling, Jackson asked, "Is there anything you've been wanting to see?"

Briallen thought for a moment, and finally answered, "Actually, yes. There's supposed to be a sizable botanical garden somewhere near the center of the city. Allie refuses to go. She says that since she grew up in the woods, she has had quite enough of nature."

Jackson gave her a disbelieving look and said, "You want to see gardens? Really? As in, plants and stuff?"

Briallen crossed her arms, and said, "Yes, why?"

Jackson shrugged, "Plants are boring."

"And what would you have me visit?"

"I don't know, a Braves game? The huge arcade in the Atlanta Underground? Or, there's an entire museum dedicated to Coke," Jackson stated.

Briallen stared at him and then asked, "How old are you? Twelve?"

"No," Jackson argued, "I'm a guy."

Briallen chuckled in spite of herself.

"Look," Jackson offered, "just to show you that I can be cultured, I'll take you to the garden thing."

"Are you quite serious?" Briallen asked in disbelief.

"Sure. If you'll let me take you, we'll go tomorrow."

Briallen looked at her hands for a moment, considering.

Jackson sighed, "Once again, Briallen, I promise I won't try to kidnap you or seduce you. You can even pay your own way."

She softened a little, and admitted, "It's just hard for me to believe you'd actually be interested in spending time with me, as a friend."

Jackson grew serious, "We're costars, Briallen. I meant what I said about getting to know each other. And I also meant what I said about being in a new place, myself. I'm almost as far from my friends and family as you. Just because I can get girls to come home with me doesn't mean I have hoards of friends."

Thinking about that for a moment, Briallen conceded, "You're right. I've never thought of that. And if you really want to go to the gardens, I'll meet you outside the theater at ten tomorrow morning."

"I'll be there," Jackson said with a broad smile.

Briallen gave him a smile and a nod. Then she jogged off down the path with Jackson struggling to keep up.

* * *

The following morning, Briallen was outside of their theater just before ten o'clock. The day promised to be warm again, and she was dressed in a light, pale-blue sundress with a sweater. She had remembered to wear decent shoes, though, knowing they would be walking. Briallen had slipped on lightweight flats and had grabbed her sunglasses, as well. She was learning that the Georgia sun could be brutal, and she wanted to be prepared.

A few minutes later, Jackson came sauntering around the corner. He was dressed comfortably, as always, in jeans and well-fitted t-shirt. He approached Briallen, and gave her a little smirk.

"What?" she asked warily.

"So, do you know where this garden thing is?" Jackson posed.

Briallen cocked her head, confused, "No, but I got their number. I thought we might ring them and get directions. And then get a taxi, since we don't seem to have a car."

Jackson smiled at her, "I have a car. But it's not necessary. Apparently, your gardens are part of the park."

"What?" Briallen looked thoroughly confused.

"This place you've been wanting to visit," Jackson explained, "it's part of Piedmont Park. The gardens are across the pond."

Briallen thought for a moment and then looked at him in disbelief, "Really?"

"Really."

"Well," Briallen looked at her hands, "that shows you how much I get about by myself."

Jackson chuckled, "You don't strike me as very adventurous."

Briallen cut her eyes toward him, "Is that an insult?"

"No," Jackson smiled.

"I suppose," Briallen admitted with a sigh, "that I really should get out and explore more."

Jackson shrugged, "Well, today is your day. If you're up for a walk, we can forgo the cab, I think."

"All right, then," Briallen agreed.

So they set off down the busy, Atlanta street. As they walked, the sun gradually began to grow brighter and cast its warmth over the whole of downtown. Briallen was glad she'd chosen the dress, because it appeared the day was, in fact, going to be quite warm. She would be glad to be able to remove the sweater, later.

Jackson led the way, taking the familiar route north. He did not, however, turn right as they usually did to go to the park. He kept heading north, covering several more blocks before turning into the entrance to the botanical gardens. It was, just as he'd explained, part of the same park Briallen had been visiting for months. She felt even more sheepish now, realizing how very close she'd been on so many occasions. Her only real sense of justification was that the two parts of the park were, in fact, separated by a very large pond. She'd never ventured further than the trails on the south end, so Briallen wanted to believe it was an easy mistake.

Thankfully, Jackson didn't harass her further. Instead, he wordlessly led the way up the winding path and into the main entrance to the gardens. Letting Briallen pay her own way, as he promised, the two of them headed out into the courtyard that was the gateway to the rest of the gardens. Briallen then took over, referencing the map she'd picked up.

Jackson had to admit, it was beautiful. He wasn't usually much for observing the scenery, but he did enjoy the outdoors. He would much rather flowers be the backdrop for playing baseball, generally, but this was tolerable. He kept reminding himself that there was a purpose in it. By looking at plants with Briallen, he was coming off as sensitive and endearing himself to her. This was just another step in replacing her very negative opinion of him with the idea that he was someone she could trust, someone she might even be attracted to.

After a couple hours of strolling around, Jackson suggested they get some lunch. Briallen pointed out that there was a café back in the courtyard, and so they headed there. It was good, they decided after ordering sandwiches. The café was in keeping with the ecological theme of the gardens and offered fresh produce and good quality breads. And, as Jackson expected, Briallen kept insisting she pay for herself. He knew she was going out of her way to emphasize that this was not a date, and he didn't press the issue. He understood that she had to come to him on her terms.

After eating, Briallen asked if they could visit the rose garden before walking back.

"I know you must be just weary of flowers, by now," she said, "but I love the roses best of all."

Looking into her wide, hopeful eyes, Jackson conceded.

As they walked through the fragrant rose garden, the sun reached its peak in the sky. The whole of the area was bathed in rich, vibrant light. Briallen finally pulled off her sweater and tucked it over her large shoulder bag as she examined the flowers. Standing a few paces away, Jackson stared at her for a moment.

He had rarely seen her out of costume, or rehearsal clothes, to this point. His initial attraction had mostly been based on her eyes, her hair, and her rather unique prettiness. She was cute and snippy in an alluring way. But now, looking at her, he felt a rush of physical attraction.

Briallen's sundress showed off the lithe, toned legs of a dancer. She wasn't tall, but she had a delicate grace in the way she carried herself. Her arms were bare, now, and her skin was smooth and fair. The dress also flattered her curves and proved she had shape beneath her layers of costuming. The sunlight brought out the copper and gold tones in her hair, giving it depth, like flickering flame.

When Briallen caught him staring, she looked back at him with those blue eyes that could be seen from the back of the house. Jackson took her in, wanting her, knowing she would not come easy, and then wanting her more.

Finally, Briallen asked, "What is it?"

Choosing his words carefully, Jackson answered, "I'm sorry, you're just…beautiful."

She raised a brow, "Don't flirt with me, Jackson."

He sighed, "Every compliment doesn't have to be flirting, Briallen."

She softened, then, and said, "I'm sorry. I did agree to give you the benefit of the doubt. So, thank you."

"So," Jackson struggled for conversation, "Roses, huh? Your favorite?"

Briallen smiled sheepishly, "I know, it's terribly cliché, but there's something about them."

"They're…flowers," Jackson stated flatly.

Briallen shook her head, and then said, "They're such a contradiction. Soft, graceful beauty, and stinging thorns. Huge, awful thorns, sometimes. It's compelling."

Jackson thought it over for a moment, and then said, "Maybe, but, without the thorns, the rose is just like every other flower."

Briallen looked at him for a moment, and he saw a change in her countenance. Jackson saw her softening and letting her guard down. He knew he'd intrigued her, at least.

Not one to ever miss a metaphor, Briallen said, "I would imagine you've never spent enough time with any one flower to find its thorns?"

Jackson studied her, and answered, "Maybe you have a point."

Briallen just looked at him, considering the statement. Then, she walked on down the path, and Jackson couldn't help smiling to himself.

Later, when they'd finally made their way back into downtown and late afternoon was approaching, Briallen took a deep breath and asked if he wanted some coffee before they parted ways. Jackson agreed, and she led the way to her favorite place.

"I suppose you know what I order," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

"It wasn't rocket science," Jackson returned with a smile.

Briallen shook her head at him, and they ordered drinks. Then, as they headed for a table to sit for just a few minutes, Briallen cocked her head, listening. Before Jackson could ask if she was hearing voices, she said, "I do love this song."

Jackson paused, listening to the ambient music in the coffee shop. It was Bon Jovi's _Bed of Roses._

"Really?" he asked with genuine surprise.

Briallen smiled as they sat down, "Yes. I'm afraid I'm a bit stuck in the past, as far as music goes. I love the best of the eighties. Bon Jovi, Journey, Rod Stewart, Queen, even Madonna."

Jackson laughed, "I wouldn't've guessed that. I'd have assumed you listened to some kind of British opera or something."

Briallen gave him a look, "I'm from another country, Jackson, but I'm not eighty years old."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically.

She looked ready to slap him again.

"I'm just kidding," Jackson said apologetically. After another moment, he added, "I just wouldn't have put you and Bon Jovi together."

Briallen smiled, "I'll give you that. But it's a great song. They have a lot of great songs. And this one, it's the contradiction, again, that fascinates me."

"What?" Jackson looked confused.

"A bed of roses," she explained, "It's another contradiction. A bed of roses can also be a bed of thorns."

Jackson sipped his coffee thoughtfully, saying, "So, roses are a theme, then?"

"What?" she asked.

He shrugged, "I don't know, the garden, the roses, the song. Seems like it's a theme, for you."

She studied him for a moment, and said, "That's very astute of you, to notice."

Jackson shrugged again.

She hesitated, and then said, "You have potential, Jackson. You could be kind, thoughtful even, if you let yourself. Maybe you should give that a try?"

He looked away, uncomfortable.

When they'd finished their drinks and were parting ways outside the coffee shop, Briallen thanked him for accompanying her. Then, before she walked away, she said, "I've heard you stopped seeing Emily and Melissa."

Jackson gave a little nod.

"Maybe you could use some time alone," Briallen posed, "to think on things. You might be surprised at who you are, without that vice."

She walked away then, and Jackson watched her, his prize, his forbidden fruit, the girl who refused to fall for him, his Kobayashi Maru. He stared after her, wanting her, and began to formulate his next step.

* * *

When Briallen got back to her apartment late that afternoon, she found Allie waiting for her in the living room. She was watching TV with her feet on the coffee table. Briallen dropped her bag by the door, and Allie sat up. There was clearly something on her mind.

Allie watched her roommate for a moment, and then asked, "Were you really out with Jackson Devereaux all day long?"

Briallen smiled, "I guess you found my note?"

She was referring to the piece of paper on which she'd scribbled where she would be for the day. Allie generally slept later than Briallen, and they made a habit of letting one another know where they would be. It seemed safer, somehow.

Allie replied, "Yep, but I had to read it about fifty times to believe it. Have you gone nuts?"

Briallen giggled, "I know it must seem that way, but I promised Jackson I would make an effort to be friendly. After all, we have to spend a great deal of time working together. Things always go so much more smoothly when there's at least a comfortable trust between two actors, I think. If there's a chance we can be friends, or friendly, I need to try."

Allie looked at her and then shook her head, "You're so diplomatic, Bray. You really are one of the kindest people in the world. Jackson should get down on his knees and thank God for that."

Briallen smiled again, "I'm just not a fighter, Allie. And, really, Jackson isn't as bad as I first imagined. He can be obnoxious, but I think he understands that I'll have none of that. He's just used to it working on women. But underneath all that, I think he has the potential to be a good person. And he has gone out of his way to compensate for how he first treated me."

Allie cocked her head and thought about it for a minute. Then, she said, "I guess I can believe that. Just, tell me you'll be careful. If he starts to pull something with you, run. Don't get caught up in his charm. If he really just wants to get along and have good stage chemistry, he should be satisfied with friendship, Bray."

Briallen went into the kitchen for a moment and returned with a bottle of water. Opening it, she dropped into a chair and answered, "I know that, Allie. And I'm not one to be swept off my feet by someone like Jackson. I can recognize selfish seduction."

Allie smiled, "I guess I know that. I just don't want you to go back to Wales disgusted with my country, or, the guys of my country."

Briallen laughed, "Certainly you don't think I would base my opinion of the entire United States on Jackson, do you?"

"I would hope not," Allie laughed, and then grew more serious, "But I think I'm also just compelled to protect you, Bray. Maybe I'm making up for never having a sibling, or maybe I just don't want you to go through what I went through…"

Briallen was quiet for a moment, watching her friend. She was touched, and said, "That's incredibly kind. I'm fortunate to have you, Allie."

There was a pause while Allie stared at her hands. She was not usually one to indulge in heavy, emotional scenes.

"You know, you do play a mother every night onstage," Briallen teased gently, "Perhaps some of that has rubbed off on you?"

Allie smiled, accepting the indirect compliment.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Allie shook herself, stood up and asked, "How about pizza? For dinner?"

Briallen smiled at the sudden change in subject, and replied, "Sure."

* * *

Over the next week, Jackson continued to come around. And, in spite of herself, Briallen started to enjoy his company. He took her to lunch on the days of Allie's yoga classes. He ran with her. He also started making it a habit to stop by her dressing room after each show. He made an effort to talk about what had gone well and what could still use work. He began to ask for Briallen's input on his performance and to listen to ways they could communicate their onstage relationship better to the audience. He even accepted, if somewhat begrudgingly, her advice on how to tweak his cockney accent to be more true to the real thing.

Briallen was quite pleased with Jackson's efforts. She was willing to call him a friend, even. She felt that, even if his initial motivations had been based on an attraction to her, he was channeling it well. He seemed to be content with their friendship, and the outright flirting had stopped. He was proving to be both intelligent and funny when he wasn't relying on the heavy-handed seduction.

Briallen believed that, by rejecting Jackson, she'd given him his first opportunity to relate to a woman on a deeper level. She felt that she was doing him good by insisting on friendship. She saw the potential in him to make someone happy, to love someone, even, if he could learn to give, rather than just take.

So, because she felt she was making a difference in ways that went beyond just the show, Briallen began to look forward to being with Jackson. He was fun. He was funny. He encouraged her to do things she wouldn't normally do. In the same way that he opened himself up to Briallen's suggestions, she did the same. Jackson helped her tweak her performance to make her Mary a bit pricklier. He helped her find the humor, and to highlight it. He also made her consider, more specifically, the relationship between Bert and Mary.

One Tuesday, at lunch, Jackson posed the question, "Why do you think Mary keeps Bert at a distance? In public, anyway?"

Briallen cocked her head, "Are you implying they have a secret affair?"

Jackson smiled, "I'm not answering the question. I'm asking it."

Briallen chewed her lip and considered the question. After a time, she answered, "I think Mary has a higher calling. I think she knows that she can't have both a romantic relationship and work for families as she does."

"But does she love Bert? Even if they can't be together?" Jackson pressed.

Briallen thought about it a little more, "I think she does love him, but more as family. I think she treasures him, like a brother."

Jackson thought about it for a moment, and said, "I disagree. I think she keeps her distance because she doesn't trust herself. He has her heart. She wants him."

Briallen rolled her eyes, "Why does it always have to be about sex, Jackson?"

Jackson sat back and looked at her for a moment, his eyes dark and brooding, "Because sometimes, Briallen, it is. And maybe there's nothing wrong with that. What's wrong with Mary wanting him?"

"I think Mary's above that," Briallen sniffed.

Jackson's expression was still dark, "Just Mary, or you too?" he asked, "Do you think sex is always selfish? I know I'm not perfect but is it always wrong to want someone?"

Briallen was taken aback. She started to snap at Jackson, but had trouble formulating the argument.

"Look," Jackson eased up, "I'm not trying to start a fight. I agree. I've used people. I'm selfish. But wanting to be with someone, intimately, is not wrong. And I don't think it would make Mary's calling any less pure."

Briallen softened a little and, after a minute, said, "If I accept that premise, I'd argue that Mary wants Bert because of what she sees in him. She doesn't desire him because of his physical attractiveness. It's not love at first sight, if you will. She knows him well, and she is drawn to the strength of his character and the purity of his heart."

Jackson thought about it, and said, "I can believe that."

Pointedly, Briallen stated, "And you might do well to consider it. Ask yourself, have you ever been attracted to someone because of more than the size of her breasts or the length of her legs?"

Jackson seemed a little started by her frankness. He realized that Briallen had become comfortable enough with him to speak her mind, and she was not as timid as she'd first appeared. So, instead of snapping a response, Jackson thought it over, and then said, "Yeah, I can see more than nice breasts and long legs, but it's difficult to get past the fact that she can be a real pain in the ass."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Briallen hurriedly replied, "It's irrelevant, anyway, because I believe in Mary's higher calling. She would never choose Bert over doing what she loves."

Jackson just looked at her with his dark, soulful eyes. She knew they weren't just talking about their characters. And, for the first time, Briallen felt her stomach flutter.


	6. Chapter 6: Dancing

**Second chapter...hope to hear from you. **

**Cat**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Dancing**

Over the next few days, the first waves of true summer heat rolled into the Atlanta area. Although it was just the first of May, the humidity paid no mind. As Allie had explained to Briallen, spring was a tentative season in the Deep South. It was something of a hiccup between the cold of winter and the oppressive, heaviness of summer. It was not unusual for temperatures to reach eighty degrees or more when the northern states were still watching snow melt.

So, at that Friday's rehearsal, the dancers' warm-up clothes were replaced with cut off tights, shorts and tank tops. Even Briallen had pared her layers down to knit pants cut off at the knee, and a cap-sleeve t-shirt. The guys ambled into rehearsal in cut off sweatpants and t-shirts, and the air conditioning struggled to life for the season.

By ten AM, the entire cast was gathered in the rehearsal studio. It was to be fairly routine, as far as rehearsals went. The dancers needed to polish a couple of sections that they hadn't been able to work on recently. They also had to prepare for Trina's absence the next week. Their Mrs. Corry had a scheduled vacation, and she would miss most of the shows the following week.

While they worked on the intricacies of _Step in Time_, Briallen did her best to be consistent. She tried, as always, to hit her marks and keep her choreography crisp for the sake of the swings who were having to change out tracks. Still, as they ran things over and over, she sensed there was a negative energy. Some of the dancers seemed especially frustrated, or annoyed. Briallen couldn't put her finger on the trouble, exactly, and she was concerned. She'd always gotten along well with the cast, even if they were not all the best of friends. She knew she was a little conservative and solitary for their liking, but they'd never had any ill feelings toward one another.

So, after the rehearsal, Briallen approached Kelly, one of the swings, and asked, "Was I off today? Did I cause you trouble?"

Kelly, who had cropped, auburn hair and a strong physique, looked her over and said, "No."

There was an edge to the reply that made Briallen ask, "Then, did I do something to offend you?"

Kelly looked uncertain, and Melissa, who was a bronzed, platinum blonde, stepped in to respond, saying, "Look Briallen, it's not you. It's Jackson. Actually, it's Emily and Jackson."

Deciding it was now safe to talk, Kelly expounded, "Emily is rather pissed at him for being a selfish prick."

Startled, Briallen replied, "That's harsh."

Melissa rolled her eyes, "I _told_ her he wasn't really interested in her. She doesn't listen. All he wants is a hook up. I was okay with that. She's not. She was mad at me, but now, she's just mad at him."

"And, is she mad at me?" Briallen asked, confused.

Melissa looked at her for a moment, and then said, "A little. She doesn't get why Jackson is willing to do for you what he wouldn't do for her. You know, hang out, do things together. I told her she shouldn't have been so easy if she wanted a relationship. Then we fought for a while. It's stupid."

"All right," Briallen was still uncertain.

Kelly spoke up then, saying, "Bottom line, I think Jackson would work his way through the whole cast if he could. It's disgusting. You should stay away, Briallen."

Briallen struggled, "I would have to argue that he's been decent. And he has stopped outright pursuing everyone, hasn't he?"

Melissa looked around, "I guess."

"He's definitely hit it off with Brennen, though," Kelly snapped, "And we all know Brennen has made his rounds…"

"Look," Melissa cut back in, "I heard you and Jackson have been hanging out. I just hoped he wasn't feeding you a bunch of crap about me or Emily. If he's honest with you, and you want a fling, go for it."

Briallen flushed, "Absolutely not. I've just made an effort to be friendly. And that is all."

Melissa nodded, yet studied Briallen's face as though she was not entirely convinced.

* * *

Two days later, between the Sunday matinee and evening shows, the cast received an announcement from their company manager, Stuart Finley. Accompanied by Kirkland, he called a brief meeting just before call time for the evening show.

When they were all gathered just outside the rehearsal studio, Stuart told them, "First of all, I want to thank you all for your continued participation in the article series for _The Journal_. The response has been excellent, and ticket sales seem to represent its marketing value. Jamie has several more installments planned, which is a great thing," he paused, "Fortunately, we've been offered another fantastic opportunity, as well. In about three weeks, we've been asked to perform a variety show-style concert to benefit a local charity. This will be a ticketed event, and will include an after-party where ticket holders get to hang out with the cast. I'm hoping all of you will participate, because it will be for a good cause. I'll send you more details via email tomorrow, including rehearsal requirements."

Stuart dismissed them, then, knowing they had a show to prepare for.

Later that night, when they were preparing to leave the theater, Jackson caught Briallen as she was walking out of her dressing room. With a smile, he said, "So, variety show? Sounds a little cheesy."

Briallen gave him a look, "I don't know, it might be fun. It would be nice to get to perform something different."

Jackson shrugged, "Maybe."

"I'd love to sing something classic, maybe a ballad," Briallen mused.

"A ballad?" Jackson raised an eyebrow, "What happened to Bon Jovi and Queen?"

Briallen considered the statement, "What I love to play on the stereo, and what I can perform, are two different things."

"Why?"

Briallen paused, "I don't know. I've always been more classical, I suppose."

"But you have to have done something other than _Mary Poppins._ You've played other parts. You have to have other training," Jackson argued.

Briallen smiled shyly and said, "Well, I was Frenchy in _Grease_, at university."

Jackson laughed, "I knew there was wildness in you somewhere."

"I'd say she's more quirky than…wild," Briallen argued.

Jackson thought for a moment, "Still, there has to be something fun we could perform together."

"Why together?"

"Because people will love it," Jackson explained, "Bert and Mary, out of costume."

Briallen pursed her lips, "Why must everything be dirty?"

Jackson sighed, "You know what I meant."

Briallen's expression softened.

Suddenly, Jackson asked, "What about _Dirty Dancing_?"

"What?" Briallen was confused.

"We could perform the finale to _Dirty Dancing_. It would be amazing."

Briallen looked thoughtful, "I don't know that I've ever seen that."

Jackson looked at her in disbelief, "Really?"

"I know it was quite popular in the states, but I never saw it. I was a bit young, when it first came out."

Jackson just stared at her, "I thought every girl alive had seen that movie."

Briallen laughed, "There are a few of us who haven't, obviously."

"So, go rent it. Watch the end. It would be awesome if we could pull it off."

Still smiling, Briallen said, "I'm pretty sure I can get it on the online film thing Allie has at home. I'll check."

"Watch it," Jackson said again, "we can talk about it tomorrow while running."

"Watch it tonight?"

Jackson shrugged, "Why not?"

"I'll try," Briallen answered.

Jackson sauntered towards the stage door then, leaving Briallen alone.

* * *

The following morning, as usual, Jackson met Briallen in the park to run. They did the circuit of the path around the pond and then stopped at their usual bench by the playground to check out the newspaper article from the day before. Briallen had a growing stack of papers at home, because she'd been saving each installment of Jamie's series. This week's would be the fifth and featured their technical crew. As Briallen devoured the article, she was pleased that the crew was having a chance to be in the spotlight. They worked hard, keeping costumes clean and stored, running lights and sound, and performing the backstage choreography that made the onstage action possible.

As she finished reading, Briallen commented, "Well, they deserved that. Not enough credit is given to the people who keep me flying safely every night."

Jackson smiled and nodded, and then asked casually, "So, did you watch the movie?"

Feeling a little sheepish, Briallen answered, "Actually, I did. Allie made me, when I asked about it."

"So?"

"It was worth being up until two AM," Briallen admitted.

"And do you think we could pull it off? As a variety show duet?" Jackson asked.

Briallen cocked her head, "You obviously have a lot of faith in my ability as a dancer."

"Come on Briallen," Jackson leaned back on the bench and gave her a look, "you can high-kick in a corset. You spend half the show dancing."

She smiled and said, "It might be fun to do something more than just sing. I haven't _really _danced in quite some time."

Jackson smiled at her, "Then let's ask Stuart if we can do it."

Briallen studied him for a moment, and said, "You really think I can do a lift like that?"

"If you're worried, then let's try it."

Briallen stared at him, "Here?"

"No," Jackson laughed, "How about in the rehearsal studio?"

"Now?"

"Do you have anything else to do?" Jackson asked.

Briallen looked around, "I guess not…"

"Come on," Jackson stood, "It'll be fun. We can put together an amazing routine and make some money for charity. Harmless, right?"

After a moment, Briallen stood. She tucked her newspaper under her arm and said, "Why not. Let's go, then."

Jackson stood and followed her back towards the theater, smirking at how much she sounded like Mary when she was giving out orders.

When they arrived, the stage door security guard let them into the rehearsal studio. Turning on the lights and the stereo, Jackson plugged in his iPod, which he used for running. Since he didn't have the actual song they planned on using, he picked something with a bit of a rumba rhythm.

Then he turned to Briallen and said, "Show me what you can do."

She looked uncertain for a moment, but then stepped towards Jackson. Offering her arms in a dance frame, Briallen let him lead her in an easy rumba. She kept up without trouble, and let him spin and dip her. Then, he pulled her in and lifted her over his head in an overhead press, with his hands on her hips. She arched her back, but still didn't quite feel secure.

When Jackson set her back down, she teased, "Come on Jackson. I'm barely five foot three."

He looked at her, surprised at her boldness. She smiled at him easily, challenging him in a friendly way. She'd gotten comfortable with him, and it was fun, she had to admit, to really dance again.

Running a hand through his hair, Jackson said, "I think it's the shirt. I can't get the right grip."

Briallen looked in the mirror at herself. She had on a loose, oversized sweatshirt to ward off the morning chill. It would make it harder to hold her properly, she had to admit. And the day grown warm enough to do without it. So Briallen pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it towards her bag. She also kicked off her running shoes. Then, she turned to Jackson with her hands on her hips.

He stood there for a moment and didn't respond. It took Briallen a moment to realize why he was staring. Glancing at herself in the mirror again, the air suddenly felt heavy around them. She was wearing fitted running shorts that left her slim legs mostly bare, having decided that the leggings she normally wore under them were unnecessary on such a warm day. Briallen hadn't felt all that exposed with the shirt on. Now, however, she realized her tank top and sports bra left her midsection bare as well. It was the least amount of clothing she'd worn around anyone except Allie in some time. It had been winter when she'd arrived in the states, and she usually wore a t-shirt and long skirt for rehearsals. In the moment, Briallen was suddenly very aware of how much skin, and cleavage, was showing.

Looking at Jackson, she could tell he'd noticed as well. He was looking at her with poorly disguised desire. Briallen was very quiet for a moment, not sure how she wanted to proceed. She was torn, mostly because she wasn't entirely upset that he was looking at her in such a way. That frightened her a little, so she looked at her hands.

Eventually, Jackson said, "I'm sorry. I've just never seen you like that. It's very…not Mary Poppins. I had an automatic guy response. Can we still dance?"

Briallen appreciated the honesty, and she was disarmed. Looking at him, she smiled, "Why don't we try some lifts? That's what we'll need, if we're to do that song."

Jackson conceded, and they tried the overhead press again. This time, he was able to lift her easily. They spent some time working through some different combinations, drawing on their dance training. They had fun, laughing at their mistakes and trying to remember the routine from _Dirty Dancing._ Briallen had to admit that dancing with Jackson finally felt natural. They had achieved what she'd hoped for. They had an easy chemistry, now.

_That's what it is,_ she told herself as Jackson wrapped his arms around her waist to lift her again, _That's why this feels so natural, because we're friends._

They worked for a little while longer and then decided they were risking being incredibly sore the next day if they kept going. Still laughing at some of their mistakes, they decided to grab some lunch on their way back home. Tying her sweatshirt around her waist, Briallen led the way back out into the sunshine.

The day had, indeed, become incredibly warm. She slipped on her sunglasses and Jackson did the same. They got sandwiches and drinks at _Miko's_ again, and then continued to talk about the variety show. It was a fun, creative outlet to be able to plan a performance outside of what they did night after night. Briallen even thought about asking Allie to sing a fun duet with her, if they were allowed to do more than one thing. For the moment, however, she and Jackson argued about the choreography from the famous _Dirty Dancing_ finale.

"We need to look at it together," Jackson was saying.

"Then let's look at it," Briallen found herself suggesting, "Allie and I have it on her telly, as I learned last night."

"Right now?" Jackson asked.

"Why not? When else do we have time?"

Jackson cocked his head, "You want me in your apartment?"

Briallen rolled her eyes, "I'm sure Allie's there. And this is hardly a date."

"All right," Jackson agreed.

So she took him back to her apartment, calling Allie's name once they were inside. After calling a few times and looking around, Briallen realized her roommate was gone. Checking the table, she found a note:

_Back in a while. Went to get nails done._

_Allie_

Briallen smiled as she held up the note, saying, "It seems I was wrong."

"No Allie?" Jackson asked.

"No, but I think I know how to work this thing," Briallen answered, leaving the note to find the television remote.

Pressing buttons and turning on devices, she finally managed to get back to the streaming program that allowed her to watch movies on demand. Offering Jackson some water from the fridge, Briallen selected _Dirty Dancing_ and fast forwarded to the final song. They sat down together, sipping water, and watched.

After a few minutes, Briallen pressed pause and asked, "You really think I can do that lift?"

Jackson smiled, "Sure, if we work on it."

Briallen stood and said, "Let's see if you can get me over your head."

Jackson smirked.

She flushed and said, "That didn't sound exactly as I planned."

"I'll spare you all the dirty commentary," Jackson stated.

"I appreciate that."

Standing, Jackson took a stance to lift Briallen. He looked around, making sure he wasn't about to break something. Briallen took the sweatshirt from around her waist and dropped it in the chair. Then, she backed up, took a few quick steps, and jumped.

She didn't get into the full-out, overhead swan lift, but Jackson easily lifted her over his head. She balanced, with his hands on her hips, for a few seconds and then started to fall forward. To keep her from falling, Jackson released his grip and caught her against his chest. Briallen laughed, and then realized how closely he was holding her. And she was torn, because it felt nice. For the briefest moment, she didn't want to pull away.

Deciding she was having a moment of insanity, she stepped back. Jackson made no move to stop her, and he waited for her to make the next move. Clearing her throat, Briallen rewound the movie to the beginning of the dance.

Then, she said, "Why don't we work on the first part? There's less of a chance of me breaking my neck."

Jackson smiled, though his eyes suddenly had a sultry quality. He nodded his agreement.

Watching the choreography, Jackson stepped behind Briallen and pulled her close to him. She leaned in, trying to match the movie. He pulled her left arm up and around his neck and very gently ran his hand from her left wrist to her left side. Briallen felt a sudden fluttering in her stomach. Then, she dropped her arm and let him spin her out and back into him.

When their bodies met, Briallen forgot about her dance frame. She placed her hands on Jackson's chest, which was only covered by the thin fabric of a light weight t-shirt. She took a deep breath and realized, with absolutely certainty, that she was attracted to him. It was a deep, aching feeling that wouldn't be ignored. She was afraid and a little angry with herself, but she couldn't deny it. Her heart had betrayed her, and she had no idea what to do.

Looking up into Jackson's eyes, she could tell that he knew something was going on. Briallen was terrible at hiding her feelings. She also knew she couldn't blame this on him. He'd kept his promise not to flirt and coming to her apartment had been her idea. Paralyzed by uncertainty and the fact that, in spite of herself, she couldn't seem to pull away, Briallen just stared at him.

After a minute, Jackson asked softly, "Is something wrong?"

Against all rational thought, Briallen reached up and put her hands around Jackson's neck. Sensing what she wanted, he leaned down and gently kissed her. Briallen felt something hitch within her as their lips met. She melted into him, surprised at how much she wanted this. Jackson was the opposite of everything she'd ever thought desirable. He was the antithesis of every romantic interest she'd ever had. Yet, now, in this moment, she wanted to kiss him more than she'd ever wanted to kiss anyone.

Forgoing her usual control, she pulled him back to the couch. Pulling him down onto it with her, Briallen lost herself in Jackson's touch. He followed her lead, which surprised her. Still, he kissed her with a deep, raw passion that turned her blood to liquid fire. Before she knew it, she was laid out on the couch with Jackson on top of her.

Briallen knew she was out of control. She knew she was acting on some kind of pent up, carnal instinct that she'd never let loose before, but she felt powerless to stop. She wanted Jackson, and he gave her what she wanted. He knew how to kiss her, how to wind his hands in her hair and move his body against hers.

Suddenly, amidst the blur of sensation, Briallen heard the door open. She heard the door click shut again. Then, she heard Allie clear her throat. Still, it took another moment for Briallen to disengage herself. She pulled away from Jackson and turned to look towards the door. Allie stood there, arms crossed, staring at them. Jackson looked as well, and then slowly separated himself from Briallen. They both sat up on the couch, fully clothed but quite disheveled.

Allie dropped her purse on the table and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt."

Briallen flushed to the point that she felt warm, and could find no words.

Jackson, however, spoke up, "I'm sorry. I should go."

He grabbed his duffel bag and started for the door, giving Briallen a lingering look that might've been apologetic. Allie cut him a harsh look, even though Briallen gave him a tiny smile. Then, he left, closing the door softly behind him. Allie just stared at her roommate, shocked.

After a minute or two, she asked, "Bray, what the hell?"

Briallen rubbed her eyes, still blushing furiously, and said, "I'm so sorry, Allie. It's terribly improper of me to carry on like that in our living room."

Allie stared at her, "It's not so much the location, Bray, it's the…who."

Briallen finally met her eyes, "I know, but I think, I mean I am…attracted to him."

Allie slowly crossed the room and sat down in the chair across from the sofa, concerned. Finally, she said, "I thought you were just trying to be friends? What happened to not falling for him?"

Briallen sighed, struggling, "The trouble is, he hasn't done anything for me to fall for. He's just been a friend, and somehow…there's a connection."

"Bray, guys don't generally change like that. Not that fast. I'm just afraid that he's just going to use you."

"I know, Allie, but I kissed him, sort of. I started it."

"Really?" Allie looked surprised.

Briallen nodded, "He hasn't made a move. And I really think he might feel something for me."

There was a quiet moment, while they both thought about that.

Then, Briallen went on, "You told me, at one point, that if I ever found someone who really, I mean who made me feel," she struggled, "You said I should go for it."

"But, Jackson?" Allie asked carefully.

Briallen met her eyes and said, "He has, for some reason, stopped seeing anyone else."

After a long moment, Allie conceded, "Okay. I'll give him that."

"I'll sleep on it, Allie. Maybe tomorrow I'll realize I'm mad," Briallen said softly.

"Maybe," Allie tried to smile, "But if you don't, you tell him that, if he hurts you, I will kill him. If this is some sort of game to him, I will kill him with my own hands."

Briallen smiled, "I don't think it's a game, this time."

Allie nodded, and wanted to believe her.

* * *

That night, while watching television at Brennen's apartment, Jackson waited until after they'd had a few beers before admitting to what had happened that day.

"We kissed. In fact, we made out," he stated.

Brennen scoffed, "Kissing wasn't the deal."

"I know," Jackson replied, "but I'm almost there."

"There's a big difference between one kiss and getting her in bed," Brennen insisted.

"Yeah, but she kissed me first," Jackson explained.

"So?"

"So, she wants me. That's exactly what I needed. She's comfortable with me, we're friends. She thinks she's changed me. She's emotionally invested. Now, I just have to make myself available," Jackson went on.

Brennen raised an eyebrow, "That's awfully cocky."

"I'm just telling you, you're out a hundred bucks."

"You've only got two weeks," Brennen reminded him.

"I may not need that long," Jackson proposed.

"We'll see," Brennen stated, "We'll see."


	7. Chapter 7: Intoxication

**So...this chapter is rated M, definitely. But it had to be this way. It just had to.**

**Also, something BroadwayStarlet can appreciate, the story about the show full of mishaps is based on actual events. Specifically, the story about the spoon. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Intoxication**

Just as she'd said to Allie, Briallen decided to sleep on her feelings for Jackson. They didn't discuss it for the rest of the evening, and Briallen went to bed still very conflicted about how she felt, or how she should feel. Then, as if to trouble her further, her dreams were filled with images of she and Jackson wrapped in each other's arms.

Briallen woke up feeling even more confused, and she lay in bed for some time. Afraid she would run into Jackson, she decided not to go running that morning. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. In fact, the problem was she felt quite the contrary. She wanted to see him. She wanted him to finish what they'd started the day before, and that terrified her. Briallen had never _wanted_ anyone so strongly in all her life.

In all of her past relationships, any intimacy had just been an eventuality. At some point in each relationship, there came a time when it only made sense to take the next step, and then the next. And it had been pleasant, occasionally pleasing, but never especially memorable. Those few minutes with Jackson, however, were burned into her brain like a white-hot brand, and Briallen felt both dirty and exhilarated. She felt justified and terrified. She wanted to act on her desires and, at the same time, wanted to run home to Wales.

Worried, frustrated, and terribly confused, she eventually sat up in bed and stared out the window. She got up and made herself some coffee and then returned to the bed to stare some more. Then, the phone rang. Briallen startled, afraid it might be Jackson. Checking the caller ID, however, she realized it was her mother. She answered, greeting her mom warmly.

"How are you?" Lucinda Griffith asked lovingly.

Briallen smiled in spite of herself, and answered, "I'm well, Mum. Very well."

"And how is the show?" Lucinda asked.

"It's just fantastic. It's going strong, as expected," Briallen explained, "We've been in the paper some, and that keeps people coming."

"Well, that's lovely," Lucinda stated.

"It is," Briallen agreed, "And we'll be doing a variety show, for charity, in a few weeks. I really am having quite a wonderful time."

Lucinda paused, "But you've not forgotten us? Here at home?"

"Of course not, Mum. I miss you all terribly. I just want you to know that things are going well, and that I'm enjoying this run."

Lucinda chuckled, "And you should. America should love you," she paused, "I can still hardly believe, my child, as Mary Poppins…"

Picking up on the sentiment, Briallen said, "I wish you could see me, Mum."

Lucinda sighed, "I know, but you know your father won't leave the restaurant."

"How about you? And Richard and Lewis?" Briallen asked, "I could send you tickets."

There was a pause, "Maybe, maybe."

Briallen let it go, then, knowing how this conversation made her mother conflicted. Lucinda supported her daughter, wholly, but she and her husband had never left their simple life to travel further than across the channel to France. Leaving their livelihood to cross the Atlantic was something Robert Griffith had not yet been willing to do.

After a moment, Lucinda asked, "Are you and Allie still getting along?"

"Oh yes. She's a wonderful friend."

"Speaking of friends," Lucinda added, "Your father saw Charlie at the docks last week. He asked about you."

"Mum," Briallen's tone was cautious.

"I know," Lucinda conceded, "you broke things off long ago. Still, he's a good boy, Briallen Rose."

"I know that, Mum, but…"

"It didn't work out," Lucinda said sadly, not concealing the fact that she'd had hopes that Briallen and Charlie would eventually work things out.

Having had this conversation many times, and feeling a little bolder than usual, Briallen added, "Mum, I've met someone here, someone I fancy…"

There was a long pause before Lucinda said, "An American?"

"Yes," Briallen said softly.

"That's complicated."

"I know, but…" she struggled.

Briallen had no idea how to communicate to her mother what she felt. She could never, ever, tell her how Jackson made her feel. She flushed just imagining confessing something like that to Lucinda.

"Please, just think about calling on Charlie," Lucinda instructed, "because you are coming back to Wales eventually, after all."

Briallen softly agreed and didn't expound any further. This is how it had always been, talking with her mother. Lucinda loved her, of that she was sure. Her mother adored her, even. She cherished her only daughter and worked hard to make Briallen's dreams a reality. And Briallen was eternally grateful, but, sometimes, she wished she could spill what was really on her mind. She wished she could be a little more candid, a little more human, around her mum.

The two of them said their goodbyes, and Briallen hung up the phone. Then, she sat there and stared into space a little bit more. She stared until Allie knocked on her door.

In a worried tone, Allie asked through the door, "Bray? Are you okay?"

"Yes," Briallen called out, "You can come in."

The door opened slowly, and Allie hesitantly entered the room. Seeing Briallen still sitting on her bed in her pajamas, she asked, "Are you not running today?"

Briallen shook her head, "No. I was tired, and, Jackson has been coming with me…"

Allie sat down on the bed, "So, are you regretting yesterday?"

Briallen took a deep breath, "Well, no. And that's the trouble."

"Oh," Allie stated.

"I'm definitely attracted to him," Briallen admitted very quietly.

Still disbelieving, Allie said, "But he's…Jackson."

Briallen picked at her bedspread, "I know, but I've never felt like this before. I can't help how I feel, Allie."

Allie sighed, "I guess not. But, maybe it's just physical. Maybe you'll sleep with him and then be over it."

Briallen blushed, "I'm not like that."

"Well," Allie said, "if it turns out that way, it's okay."

Briallen met her roommate's eyes, "I really like him, Allie."

Allie tried to smile, "Then, I really hope he cares about you, too."

Briallen looked back out the window, still unsure.

* * *

For the next few days, Briallen managed to avoid Jackson. She decided to forgo running, knowing he would certainly be waiting for her at the park. She got to the show right at call time and left as soon as she could get dressed after each performance. Jackson tried to catch her. He asked in passing during one of the shows if she would be running the next day. He called her phone and texted her. And Briallen had to give him credit, because he didn't send needy, whiny messages. He didn't seem angry. He stayed friendly. He appeared concerned.

So, by that Friday evening, Briallen was feeling badly for avoiding him. She knew they would eventually have to talk to one another, unless she intended to cut things off forever. Still, she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to say or what she wanted to happen next.

Finally, one evening, she was in her dressing room, just starting to prep for the show, when Jackson stopped by. He leaned against the doorframe and asked, "Have you been avoiding me, Poppins?"

She turned, surprised at his use of the nickname. Briallen thought he was past insulting her, especially considering the current state of their relationship.

Seeing her reaction, Jackson said, "I'm not insulting you, Briallen. It's kind of a cute nickname, if used by someone who likes you."

She looked at her hands, noting his use of the phrase 'likes you'.

Trying again, Jackson said, "I really just want to talk to you. I get that you're avoiding me, and I understand that this is kind of awkward. But, I thought we had a pretty good thing going. If nothing else, I think we're friends, now."

Briallen finally looked at him, knowing her eyes were probably giving away her feelings, or at least her torment. Eventually, she said, "You're right, and I'm sorry. I just think we're in a tricky situation."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jackson said, "I know that. But, let me take you out after the show for a drink. Or coffee. Let's talk about it. We've got to. Otherwise, it will just get worse."

He flashed a dimpled smile, and his eyes melted her heart. Also realizing that he was right, and that this couldn't be avoided forever, Briallen nodded her concession.

So, a few hours later, she and Jackson sat across from each other in a little pub down the street that was tamer than most late night establishments. Knowing Briallen wasn't much for noise and heavy drinking, Jackson had picked a place where they could talk. He got a beer, and Briallen sipped at something fruity and barely alcoholic.

After settling at the table, she spoke up, "I'm sorry I've avoided you, Jackson. I just needed to think this over."

Jackson smiled, "I got that."

Briallen sighed, "It's just, we're co-workers. If this goes badly, we're stuck with each other."

"So, define what 'goes badly' means," Jackson asked.

Caught off guard, Briallen thought it over. Then, she said, "Well, you could break things off for no reason, if you don't really have feelings for me. Or we could end up hating one another."

"What if you break things off?" Jackson returned, "What if you change your mind? What if you realize it was just a crush?"

Briallen was quiet for a moment, realizing she hadn't considered those possibilities.

Leaning towards her, Jackson went on, "Most things in life are a risk, Briallen. I'm not asking you to marry me. But, what we had the other day…"

His eyes became clouded with desire, and Briallen felt the warmth of attraction flow through her again.

They finished their drinks, and Jackson walked her home. He didn't say much else, and Briallen was glad. She was a ball of nervous energy, struggling to keep herself even and under control.

When they reached her apartment building, they paused at the door. Briallen finally looked into Jackson's eyes, and she very much wanted to invite him in. However, she knew that Allie was home. She also realized that Jackson had pointedly not invited her back to his place. He was making a real effort to treat her well, and, paradoxically, that was making her want him more.

Before Briallen could say anything, Jackson stepped in close to her. He very gently kissed her mouth, lingering just long enough for her entire body to tense with aching desire. Then, he pulled away and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Briallen watched him go, yearning for tomorrow.

* * *

The matinee show the next day came with a great audience that responded especially enthusiastically. The cast, like any group of actors, fed off of the energy from the crowd. They played up the humor and lingered in the tender moments. They made their audience laugh, cry, and sigh with delight.

Allie noticed, however, that Briallen seemed distracted. Granted, she'd been distracted most of the week. Allie knew she was agonizing over Jackson, who didn't seem all that worth agonizing over, Allie thought. Briallen had a right to her own opinion, though, and Allie was trying to be supportive. She thought her roommate might be reaching some of sort of stress breaking point, though, based on the matinee performance.

Briallen couldn't get the door closed to the nursery set in one of the first scenes, and she stumbled over her words a few times. She very nearly put on the wrong shoes during one of her quick changes, and, during _Spoonful of Sugar_, she dropped the spoon. Allie watched her friend frantically search for the critical prop under the table while continuing to sing. Luckily, she found it, and moved on.

When they finally made it to curtain call, they bowed to a roaring audience. Then, as they dispersed to their dressing rooms, Allie caught Briallen.

With a smile, she said, "Let's run home for lunch. I want to talk to you, Bray."

Briallen gave her a smile, "Sure. I'll meet you at the stage door."

Briallen went on to her dressing room, frustrated with herself for being such a mess of nerves. Once inside, she stripped off her costumes and her wig and let her dresser put everything away. She organized Briallen's things and then set off to take care of the rest of her duties, leaving Briallen alone.

Briallen slowly began to remove her make up, preferring to start fresh for the next show. Then, she tied a soft scarf around her head to protect her pin curls. Sitting there in just an oversized, button-down shirt that she liked to wear while working with her makeup, she stared at herself. Losing track of time, Briallen tried to stop agonizing over Jackson and focus on the next show. She tried to decide what she would say to Allie, knowing exactly what her friend wanted to talk about at home that afternoon.

Lost in her thoughts, Briallen jumped when a voice said, "You're the last one, Poppins."

Turning towards the door, she saw Jackson standing there, smiling, "Allie was waiting for you. She said she needed to do something and for you to meet her at home."

Briallen nodded, saying, "I guess I've been sitting here for a while."

Jackson entered the room as Briallen stood up from the chair.

Teasing, he said, "I heard you dropped the spoon."

Briallen smiled, "We all have our mishaps."

"Not so practically perfect?" Jackson smirked.

Briallen giggled at herself.

"So, what happened to make you drop the spoon?"

Swallowing hard, she boldly said, "I was thinking about you."

The room was very quiet, then. Jackson looked at her, suddenly serious. His eyes were dark as he asked, "Really?"

Briallen nodded slowly.

Jackson silently went to the door and closed it softly. Briallen watched as he set his phone and the few other things he was carrying on one of her shelves. Then, her breath caught as he crossed to stand just inches from her. She became very aware of how little she was wearing as he stood there, studying her face. Then, he stepped in and kissed her.

This time, it was entirely different. Jackson wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hungrily, pulling her into him so that she could feel his body through the thin fabric of her shirt. Almost instinctively, she reached up and wound her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

Feeling a low moan escape her throat, Briallen couldn't stop herself. She felt completely out of control, again, but couldn't make herself pull away. Even days of tormenting herself hadn't damped her feelings. She wanted him, and she knew it wasn't going to go away.

So Briallen kissed him with wild abandon. She let him explore her mouth until she was gasping for breath, and then she let him work his mouth down her neck to her collarbone. She sucked in a quick breath as he ran his hands up underneath her shirt to her bare waist beneath. She ran her hands over his strong chest and down his arms, toned from dance. Jackson pulled her back into him, devouring her lips again and letting his hands slide down to her buttocks as he pulled her closer.

Putting her hands in his dark, thick hair again, Briallen whimpered a little. She pulled back for a second and tried to speak, and Jackson stopped her. Her kissed her again, tongue on tongue, breath mixing with breath. Without pulling back, he reached up and pulled apart the first few buttons on her shirt. Before Briallen realized it, he was working his mouth down her chest to her breasts, not bothering to remove her bra. With practiced skill, one hand pulled up her shirt while the other reached between her thighs. Bringing his mouth back to hers, Jackson divested her undergarments.

Briallen's body flushed warm, and she felt the aching, moisture of desire as Jackson's fingers coaxed pleasure from her most intimate places. She knew she was past the point of saying no, past the point of being able to stop. She knew she was taking a great risk, and she had never, ever behaved so wildly in all of her adult life. Still, she wanted him. She wanted him in a carnal, animalistic way that made her forget modesty and propriety.

After working her to a near frenzy, Jackson moved his hands and pulled the shirt over Briallen's head. He pulled his own t-shirt off and cast it away. Pulling her to him again, skin on skin, he kissed her full, ready lips once more.

Realizing she was still wearing her stockings and boots from the show, Briallen moved to pull them off. Stopping her, Jackson said, "Leave them on. Unless you want me to rip them."

Briallen nodded, and Jackson kept kissing her. He backed her across the room, away from the makeup counter and the mirror, to the wall beside the door. Lifting her gently, she wrapped her legs around his waist as Jackson worked his way down her neck once again.

With her back against the cool, flat wall, Briallen felt Jackson press his hips into hers. She could feel his arousal as he moved against her, drawing a low noise from her throat. Absolutely shocked at her boldness, she pulled away just enough to put her feet on the floor and fumble with his pants. Briallen struggled to free his body from the fabric, and Jackson helped her. Then, she wrapped her legs around him again.

Expertly maneuvering her undergarments, Jackson thrust himself inside of her, and Briallen did not wait for him to lead. Moving her hips against him, she clawed at his back from the intensity of her driving desire. He held her tightly, nibbling at her neck and pressing her against the cool wall with every thrust of his body.

Locking her black, practically perfect boots behind Jackson's body, Briallen tried not to scream. She tried to keep her sounds to low, guttural moans as her body cried out for release, rocking with him through each warm, wet wave of pleasure. And Jackson, who was no stranger to lovemaking, drove her to madness. He took her to the precipice of climax and then pulled back, holding her against the wall and slowly, thoroughly kissing her mouth. He reached his hands around and grasped her bare buttocks, barely moving within her. Briallen bit her lip, trembling. She let out another moan, and Jackson gave in.

He drove her body into a tense, tight, aching mass of raw desire and then kept going as she climaxed. Briallen could barely breathe as her body tightened around him, and the warm, quaking waves of pleasures filled her whole abdomen. Her whole body quivered and she lost all control. She could barely cling to him. At some point, she felt Jackson's body release within hers. The sensation only drove her orgasm further, and she cried out. Jackson was quiet, intense, with his face in her neck.

It felt as if they were frozen that way for an impossible amount of time. Briallen had made love before. She thought she'd had an orgasm before. This, however, was on such an incredibly different level that she now questioned herself. She clung to Jackson, spent and weak. And he held her for quite some time. Then he pulled back and kissed her softly.

After a moment, Briallen gave him a soft smile. She put her feet on the floor, testing her ability to walk. Then, giving him an apologetic look, she went into the bathroom for a moment before things got messy. She came back out just a minute later and faced him. Suddenly aware of her attire, or lack thereof, she crossed her arms over herself.

Having straightened himself up, but still shirtless, Jackson crossed to her. He kissed her again.

When he pulled back, she started to speak, "I really think we could be in a lot trouble for this."

He kissed her again.

Briallen pulled away again, "I've never, I mean I have, but…"

Jackson stopped her, "For now, enjoy the moment. We have another show to do, soon."

She realized what time it was.

"Allie's going to kill me," Briallen stated softly.

Jackson looked at her for a moment, and asked, "Do you regret it?"

Briallen studied his eyes, and then said, "No."

Then, Jackson pulled her against him again, flesh on flesh, and Briallen had no idea how they were going to get through the next show.

After another few minutes, Jackson pulled back, gently kissed her, and said, "I hate for this to sound rude, but I think I have to get something to eat before we do another three-hour show."

Briallen gave him a tiny smile, and answered, "I understand. One does have to eat."

"Do you want to go?" Jackson asked.

Briallen thought about it, and then shook her head, "No. I think I need to stay here and find my focus."

Jackson kissed her again, "Am I that distracting?"

Ever truthful, Briallen said, "Yes, you are."

"I wouldn't want to be responsible for a poor showing by Mary Poppins," Jackson teased, "Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Briallen thought it over, and said, "Coffee?"

"Got it," Jackson agreed.

He retrieved his shirt, pulled it on, and then gathered the few other items he'd brought into the room. As he headed toward the door, Briallen spoke up, "Jackson?" she looked at him with wide eyes, "There will be more than this, won't there?"

Jackson studied her for a minute, his expression somewhat unreadable. Then, he offered, "I hope so."

Briallen was satisfied with that. Jackson left then, pulling the door shut behind him.

Briallen crossed to the soft armchair in the far corner of the small room and sat down. She decided to finally shed the boots and the stockings, preferring to start each show with clean clothes. Pulling on the pair of knee-length shorts she'd arrived in, Briallen then curled up in the chair and stared at the door. Every nerve in her body felt like it was on alert. Every inch of her skin tingled, and her lips were still warm from fervent kisses. Her body was sore, having been somewhat out of practice, yet she still had an abiding, satisfied feeling that made her feel a touch guilty.

Trying to sort out all the feelings, all the sensations and questions about the future, Briallen lost herself in her thoughts. She lost all track of time as she daydreamed and remembered, and then imagined more.

Some time later, there was a loud knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, Allie stormed in the room. She looked a panicked, and then her expression turned to disbelief.

"Bray! Have you been here the whole time?"

Briallen sat up suddenly, composing herself, and said weakly, "Yes…"

Allie put her hands on her hips, "I've been waiting for you at home! I thought maybe you'd been hit by a bus or…something!"

Feeling horrible for abandoning her friend, Briallen replied, "I'm terribly sorry, Allie. I…I was held up a bit…and I lost track of time."

Allie looked like she wanted to argue further, but something stopped her. She studied her friend, as though she knew something was off. After a minute, she said, "Briallen, you've never stood me up. You're not a careless kind of person. I am, sometimes, but not you. So, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Briallen defended, "I've been here the whole time."

"Did you eat dinner?"

Realizing she hadn't, Briallen answered, "I suppose not."

Folding her arms across her chest, Allie asked rhetorically, "You forgot to eat?"

Briallen tried to smile, "Apparently, I did."

Allie was quiet again, her eyes searching Briallen's face. Finally, she asked, "Were you and Jackson here? Making out again?"

Briallen flushed red. After a moment, she admitted, "We were here together…yes."

Allie's face colored with realization, and she took a step back. Pulling the dressing table chair over to where Briallen sat, she sat down, leaned toward her friend and asked, "Did you have sex? Here?"

Briallen focused on her hands, her cheeks burning, and nodded. Allie looked absolutely dumbfounded.

After a long, quiet minute, Briallen stated, "I know it's barmy, Allie. I've behaved madly. But, I've never had something like this before."

Allie sat there for a moment, her face softening into compassion. With kindness, she asked, "You've really never had a wild, crazy fling? Not even once?"

Briallen shook her head.

Allie gave a little smile, "Then, I guess, maybe, you're due?"

Briallen smiled, "Perhaps, but I don't think this is just a fling, Allie."

Allie stared at her friend for a long time, chewing her lip. Finally, she said, "Bray, I have to ask this again. I have to. Are you sure he feels the same way?"

"I think," Briallen replied, "that he's willing to try. I know it's difficult to believe, given his past, but, someone has to be the first to tame him."

"I guess that's true," Allie conceded.

"So, can you be happy for me?" Briallen asked softly.

Allie looked her friend over, and answered, "Sure."

Briallen smiled, and then looked down at her hands again.

After a moment, Allie added, "You might not want to keep using the dressing room, though. I think it's frowned upon."

Briallen laughed in spite of herself.

Checking her watch, Allie stated, "I've got to start prepping. It's time to become Winifred Banks once more," pausing, she added, "Did you eat anything, Bray?"

Briallen shook her head.

"Here," Allie fished some crackers out of her shoulder bag, "eat these. You can't do a show on an empty stomach. You'll faint."

"Jackson's bringing me coffee."

Allie rolled her eyes, "You can't do a show on _coffee_, Bray."

Taking the crackers, Briallen conceded, "I'll eat them. I promise."

Allie gave Briallen a pointed look and then left to prep for the show.

Jackson brought coffee as promised, and then had to turn his attention to getting ready himself. He gave Briallen a long, heated look, though, as Carol, her dresser returned from dinner. Then, he was gone, and it was time to become Mary once more. Within twenty minutes, Briallen was corseted, layered, dressed and made up for the show. Her wig was impeccable, her boots on her feet again. Carol helped her pin her hat on just right and then left Briallen to her thoughts for the start of the show.

Sitting there, waiting for her first cue, Briallen studied her reflection. She looked at herself and saw Mary Poppins. She saw this coiffed, perfectly put together woman whose character was beyond reproach. She saw a person who never missed a step, never faltered in her confidence, and never allowed sentiment to muddle her thinking. Staring at herself, Briallen felt like a bit of a fraud, tonight. Mary was never uncertain, never wallowed in her feelings, and she certainly never chose selfish frivolity over the greater good. Or did she?

That evening, Briallen couldn't help wondering about Mary. In light of that afternoon and the fact that she generally put a lot of herself into her performance, she considered Mary in a new light. She wondered if perhaps, some afternoon, Mary had let Bert hike up her petticoats in one of the pristine meadows in his perfect drawings. She wondered if, beneath the pretention, Mary understood what it meant to be human, after all. Briallen imagined Bert and Mary wrapped in each other, bathed in light from a perfect sun. And in the fantasy, their faces were that of her and Jackson. It was nice, she decided, to think of Mary as having such a weakness. She liked the idea Mary being loved, of her understanding how one can't always choose what the heart wants. It helped explain the hint of compassion Mary revealed every now and then.

Imagining herself and Jackson in a sunlit field together also gave Briallen a warm, aching feeling. It affected her so strongly she had to shake herself and pull her focus back to the show. She had a massive to production to perform, after all.

It was just a few minutes later that Briallen was called to the stage. Taking a deep breath, she hoped for the best.

And, for the most part, things went all right. Performing with Jackson, however, was proving to be an entirely different matter, now. Over the past couple of weeks, he and Briallen had developed just the right chemistry. They had become believably sweet together. Now, however, he took her breath every time they were near one another.

Briallen had to tear her gaze away from his eyes to keep from losing her lines. At every brush of his hand, her body felt on fire. Every time they had to dance together, she had to send her thoughts elsewhere or focus solely on her choreography. And finally, when she had to kiss him goodbye, she lingered just a moment longer than usual. Briallen's breath hitched as Jackson very gently let his hand slide to her breast once again, but this time, her reaction was entirely different. She could barely compose herself to sing her last refrain.

When the curtain was down and the applause had died out, she stopped Jackson in the wing. Once the others had disappeared into the hallway, she kissed him softly on the mouth. Feeling incredibly bold, Briallen said, "Make love to me, Jackson. Take me somewhere and make love to me until we're exhausted."

Jackson studied her face, with desire flickering in his eyes. Kissing her again, he said, "Stage door. Ten minutes."

Briallen nearly left the theater without shoes she was in such a hurry. She'd quickly gotten out of the make up, grabbed her bag, and then went back to hurriedly stuff her feet in her sandals. Scurrying down the hallway, she stuck her head in Allie's dressing room.

She threw out, "Don't wait up for me. Okay?"

Allie turned, looked at Briallen for a moment, and asked, "Jackson's?"

Briallen nodded.

"One thing," Allie said, holding her friend's gaze, "Be careful, okay?"

Briallen gave a little smile and blazed toward the stage door.

Finding Jackson just outside, signing programs, Briallen tried to be polite. She signed what was given to her and posed for a picture or two. Then, she turned to Jackson. Without a word, he indicated for her to follow him. Briallen obeyed.

When they were out of sight of the theater, he pulled her into a corner between two buildings and pressed his mouth to hers. Briallen parted her lips and kissed him thoroughly. Feeling another wave of arousal, she couldn't even make herself care that they were in public. Letting her hands slide from Jackson's neck to his buttocks, Briallen thought she might let him take her in the street if he wanted. She was drunk on him, intoxicated by him, and she wanted more of him.

Reluctantly pulling away, Jackson led her silently back to his apartment. It was nice, for a guy's apartment. He had a spacious living area and a small guest bedroom. It was all clean lines and comfortable furniture. Briallen barely saw it, however, as he kissed her all the way to the bedroom. Dropping bags, keys and shoes, they stumbled back to the king-size bed in Jackson's room. There, he proceeded to do exactly what she had asked.

Jackson slowly undressed her this time, taking time to kiss every inch of her skin until she was naked as birth before him. Then, in the dim lamplight, he looked at her. He laid her out on the bed, kissed her mouth roughly, and said, "Damn, you're gorgeous…"

It was the first time someone, a man namely, had been so openly aroused by her. For Briallen, it was the first time she'd ever felt so sensual, so desired. Jackson looked as though he couldn't get enough of her, and that was incredibly empowering. So Briallen pulled herself up, and began to undress him. Working carefully, she freed him of the t-shirt and jeans, the socks, and finally, the boxers. Then, with a bold, new confidence, she dropped to her knees.

Having always been too afraid, or embarrassed, to take the initiative in the bedroom, she had never explored a man this way. Now, she relished the power in it. She was driven by the way Jackson moaned and responded. Then, he pulled her back to her feet and laid her out on the bed. Returning the favor, he worked his mouth over her whole body. Not leaving one bit of skin untouched, he made her shiver and ache. He brought her nearly to climax with the heat of his breath and the way he knew how to use his tongue.

Then, he covered her with his body and touched every inch of her. He kissed her gently, letting her feel how much he wanted her in his arousal. He kissed her breasts and took his time. When he guided their bodies together, he moved slowly, and Briallen let herself moan and beg. She clutched at him and wound her legs around his.

Jackson made love to her tenderly, deliberately. He worked her toward climax slowly, savoring the feeling of their bodies, joined. Briallen felt like she'd discovered some new type of intoxication, and she was quickly becoming an addict. She closed her eyes, clutched at the sheets, and bit her lip. As their bodies grew warm and a sheen of sweat formed, she begged for release. And finally, she let out a scream as they climaxed again. And again. And again.

That night, they pushed the limits of what their bodies would allow. They spent the moonlight, resting occasionally, and waking to please each other again. Jackson taught Briallen how to let go, how to demand what she wanted and give without restraint. He drove her to madness. He grounded in her in the reality of what she was capable of. He made her feel alive, wanted, fulfilled and hopeful.

By daylight, Briallen was asleep in Jackson's arms. The sheets were long since missing and the room held the scent of sweat and sex. They'd pulled the quilt over themselves and slept away the morning, lost in the bliss of lovers sated.


	8. Chapter 8: Exposed

**Allrighty...we continue. I would love to hear from some of you, and I hope I didn't scare everyone away with the last chapter. Anyhoo...here goes...**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Exposed**

Sometime close to noon, Briallen and Jackson were awakened by the sound of an alarm clock. Jackson switched it off, and Briallen struggled to open her eyes against the bright, midday sun. When she finally managed to sit up, Jackson was smirking at her.

"Morning, Poppins," he teased.

Briallen threw a pillow at him and then searched for her clothes.

"We have an hour to be at the theater," Jackson told her.

"Oh dear," Briallen mumbled, "It's good that you have an alarm."

"It's my emergency alarm," Jackson explained, "In case I oversleep."

"Well thank goodness for that," Briallen stated and then, realizing she was going to be showing up in the same clothes she'd worn the day before, but wrinkled, she added, "Well, this is a bloody mess."

"Embrace the walk of shame," Jackson teased her further.

"What?" she looked confused as she searched for underwear.

Jackson laughed, "You know, when you show up the next day in the same clothes, because you haven't been home. The walk of shame."

Briallen wrinkled her brow, "I'd rather avoid the gossip, if I can."

"So, I'm guessing you don't want to show up wearing my clothes? Or I'd offer you a shirt, at least."

Briallen gave him a look, "I don't think everyone in the cast needs to know my personal business."

Jackson crossed to her and held her still for a moment, "So I have to keep my hands off of you at the show?"

She grew serious, "I just don't want to make a scene. I'm not much for gossip, or being the subject of gossip."

"You know, they'll all eventually figure it out, though."

"Then let them figure it out in due time," Briallen stated.

Jackson didn't argue.

An hour later, showered but still in the same clothes, Briallen got to her dressing room. If anyone noticed her disheveled clothes, or the fact that she arrived with Jackson, they made no mention. Everyone was occupied with the business of preparing for the show, and even Allie didn't have a chance to question Briallen.

Then, in their break between shows, Jackson came to Briallen's dressing room again. Telling their fellow cast members that they would meet them shortly, they took advantage of the private space once again. Jackson took her hungrily, as though they hadn't just been together hours before. Then, they went to dinner, giving no indication that they'd just been intimate. For Briallen, it was a rush, having this secret, this personal connection that she didn't have to share with anyone else. It made her want Jackson more. It made her want to disappear with him somewhere and bare her body and soul.

After the show, however, Briallen finally told Jackson they had to part ways. She was exhausted and needed a change of clothes.

Standing at the stage door, she said, "I must get some sleep, and I need my things, but I'll meet you tomorrow, in the park."

Jackson looked at her intently, "I'll be there."

"And we still have a variety show dance to work out," Briallen added.

"I'll bring the song," Jackson added.

Allie came outside then and looked both of them over. Then, she and Briallen walked away towards home.

That night, after showering and pulling on soft pajamas, Briallen sat on the couch with a container of ice cream.

Coming into the living room, Allie saw her eating and asked, "Seriously?"

"I'm starving," Briallen explained.

Allie smirked, "Maybe you should try eating instead of sex."

"Eating isn't nearly as much fun."

Allie was momentarily stunned, "That's one of the boldest things I've ever heard you say."

Briallen licked her spoon and said, "I'm feeling much bolder, all of a sudden."

Allie sat down in the chair and said, "I guess I'm happy for you."

"Are you going to lecture me again?" Briallen asked.

Allie smiled, "No. You're an adult."

"Jackson and I have something amazing. It's barmy, but…it's real," Briallen stated.

"So, he wasn't just bragging? He really is good in bed?"

Briallen blushed, "Allie…"

"Come on, Bray. You have to tell me. Friends share this stuff."

"All right," Briallen set down the ice cream, "Yes. He's incredible. I've never had someone make me feel so…desirable. He makes me feel a little out of control. He makes me bolder. He makes me feel things I didn't know I could feel."

"I can understand that," Allie conceded, "that's how Sam makes me feel. I think it's because I can be vulnerable around him. Emotionally, I mean."

There was a pause, and Briallen chewed her lip. Working up her courage, she said, "Allie, can I ask you something personal?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever been…sore? Afterwards?"

Allie laughed, "Yeah, that happens when you try to set some sort of record for lovemaking within twenty-four hours."

Briallen blushed again, but laughed at herself.

After a moment, Allie sobered, and said, "Look, Bray, I would never judge you. You're my friend. You're strongly attracted to someone. I can understand that. I never imagined it would be Jackson who got to you, but so be it. And I've threatened to kill him if he hurts you."

Briallen laughed at that.

Then, Allie added, "Just, take things slow, okay? Make Jackson behave, and don't accept anything less than his best behavior."

Briallen smiled, "I won't."

Satisfied, Allie switched on the television. She retrieved a spoon, and they proceeded to devour the ice cream.

* * *

In the morning, Briallen was at the park early, waiting for Jackson. As he promised, he arrived at their usual spot a few minutes later. Giving her a sly smile, he took off down the path. She followed, enjoying the thrill of trying to catch him.

They ran the circuit of the trail, as usual, and then snuck off into the trees to make out a bit. Stopping before they got too out of control, they sat for a few minutes in the shade of the trees, watching the few other people who passed. Then, they decided to put in some time in the rehearsal studio working on their routine. They headed to theater just as the day started to grow warm.

They had permission from Stuart to perform their duet at the variety show, but they needed to have it roughly choreographed for their first rehearsal the next day. Some of their weekly rehearsal time was now being dedicated to the charity show, and they had a great deal to do to be ready in two weeks.

So Briallen and Jackson hooked an iPod up to the sound system in the studio and used a few online videos to work through the choreography of the dance. It was a fun duet, part slow and sensual, part fast and fun. The trickiest part was the lift at the end, which proved to be as difficult as it appeared in the movie. Briallen was small, and Jackson had the strength, but finding the right momentum and balance was complicated.

They tried it several times, unsuccessfully, and then decided to pull one of the mats used to practice aerial stunts into the center of the room. Using it as a way to keep Briallen from falling on the wooden floor, they kept working. She backed a distance away and ran toward him, over and over. Each time, inevitably, she pulled him over, making both of them collapse onto the mat.

One what felt like the fiftieth time, they fell once again, with Briallen sprawled out on top of Jackson. They laughed heartily at themselves, breathing heavily from all the effort. Then, sobering, Briallen pinned him beneath her and kissed him. He returned the kiss, and they lost themselves in it for a moment. It wasn't until Jackson slid his hands down her shorts that Briallen pulled away.

"I'm very sure that _this_ is frowned up," she said with a sly smile.

Jackson kissed her roughly, and said, "Then we'd better do it quickly."

With that, he stood up and went to the double doors that lead to the studio. Quietly flipping the lock, he crossed back the mat. Seizing Briallen, his hands were all over her at once.

To her own surprise, Briallen found that the wrongness of what they were doing made her want it more. Like an addict finding a stronger, more taboo drug, she fed off the rush of being with Jackson in such an inappropriate place. She fell into his arms, kissed him deeply, and then pinned him to the mat with her body. In a flurry of sensation and raw desire, she took him swiftly. Then, they lay there for a minute, out of breath and drunk on one another.

After another few moments, Jackson said, "I think I'm done rehearsing."

Briallen chuckled, "I agree, and, I think we're going to have to stop using the theater for…this."

"Because it's frowned upon?" Jackson teased.

Briallen gave him a look, "This is a club I never thought I'd join."

"I'll join any club you want, Poppins."

She slapped him playfully, but secretly considered the other possibilities.

They quickly redressed, then, and left the studio, hoping no one was the wiser.

* * *

For the next week, Briallen's days consisted of rehearsing, performing, and then returning to Jackson's to learn new ways to make love. Since she was willing and trusting, like a child in a wonderland, Jackson held nothing back. He covered her in chocolate, made love to her in the kitchen, and then took her into the shower to wash it all off. He laid her out on the kitchen table, made her scream his name, and then took her to bed. And on the days when she had to go home, he met her in the morning and made love to her in her own bed while Allie was at Yoga.

On one of those mornings, Allie returned home at nearly lunchtime and found them wrapped in Briallen's bedspread. She rolled her eyes and went about her business, throwing out, "It's all okay until I find someone naked on the couch."

Briallen just laughed, because she knew Allie would tell her directly if something was really bothering her. Briallen had also tolerated the many times Sam had stayed over, and she knew Allie was returning the favor.

At the shows, however, they kept things quiet. Briallen wasn't quite ready for all the gossiping and questioning that would inevitably follow revealing their relationship. For the moment, she was rather enjoying the secrecy of it. It felt like her own, secret treasure, like something she held just for herself.

Briallen was also growing more certain with each day that she was in love with Jackson. He had rocked her world and made her realize there was so much more to love than just mildly enjoying someone's company. He was the first man she'd ever wanted with every beat of her heart and fiber of her being. She wanted to be with him constantly. She wanted to bare herself to him, body and soul. She enjoyed every moment with him, whether it was gasping during lovemaking or laughing over lunch. When they lay together in bed, she would tell him about her family, her home in Wales, her dreams, her desires, and the things she kept underneath her somewhat quiet exterior.

After just a week, Briallen was hooked on him. She lived and breathed him, and she hoped he felt the same. She hoped the intensity she saw in his eyes, the way he willingly spent time with her, and the way he kissed her like no one else mattered, were signs that he might love her to. She hoped he was at least wondering, if he was in love with her.

And as they worked on the variety show, rehearsed together, and performed the show each night, she knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the cast found out. Briallen realized their secret would soon be out and some people would be upset, perhaps jealous. She knew there would be talk. If she had Jackson, however, it didn't seem to matter. Briallen would take whatever might come, as long as she had Jackson.

* * *

Sunday night, a week after he'd first slept with Briallen, Jackson agreed to go out with Brennen. He'd been understandably tied up recently, but Briallen needed to get a decent night's sleep. So Jackson went to a local pool bar with Brennen, where they ordered drinks.

After a few minutes, Brennen said, "Okay. Tell me what's going on. You're ditching the rest of us, and Poppins is staring at you like you're some kind of god during rehearsals."

Jackson gave him a sly smile, "And?"

"So, did you nail her?"

"That sounds like we're in high school."

Brennen rolled his eyes, "Okay Did you sleep with her?"

Jackson took a drink, "Yes. A few times."

Brennen looked surprised, in spite of himself, and asked, "Seriously? How many?"

Jackson smirked, "I've lost count."

"That's a lie," Brennen scoffed.

"Brennen, I've had her in every way I can have her. She's putty. I had her naked on my kitchen table, for godsakes."

"Yeah, remind me not to eat at your place, ever," Brennen stated sarcastically.

Jackson went on, "I've even had her a few times _in the fucking theater._"

Brennen looked dumbfounded, "Really? _Poppins?_"

Jackson nodded.

Jackson asked, "So, where's my hundred bucks?"

Brennen took a drink and smiled, "I don't think so. You have to have proof. Otherwise, you could still be screwing with me."

"Believe me," Jackson retorted, "you're not the one I'm screwing."

"Funny. But I still want photo or video proof."

Jackson looked him over, considering his options.

Brennen went on, "And your two months are almost up."

Jackson gave in, "Fine. When I'm ready, when I get tired of her, you'll have it. So get your money ready."

Brennen studied him, impressed, but still not convinced.

* * *

Two days later, at their Tuesday morning rehearsal, Briallen couldn't help noticing that something felt off. They were working on the order of the numbers for the charity show and also working on some group choreography. It was tedious, but seemed to be working out well. Briallen noticed, however, that Melissa and Emily were eyeing her again, and even Kayla and Wren appeared to be staring at her curiously. She guessed that they had picked up on the new chemistry between she and Jackson, and Briallen realized her secret wasn't going to remain a secret much longer.

Still, she was surprised at what transpired when they went to lunch. She agreed to go with Allie and their usual group, which she hadn't been doing as frequently. They got an outside table at a local pizza place, and as soon as the waiter walked away, the questions started.

"So," Laurie began, studying Briallen intently, "I have to ask…are you sleeping with Jackson?"

Briallen was taken aback, but not exactly surprised. She'd known this was coming. She chewed her lip for a minute, and then softly admitted, "Yes."

There was a mixed reaction, ranging form startled shock to knowing concern. After a moment, Kayla asked, "Are you serious?"

Briallen nodded with a tiny smile.

"But, why?" Kayla went on.

Briallen studied her hands, feeling entirely uncomfortable with explaining her love life. She'd never been in a controversial relationship before, and she was unprepared to defend herself.

Eventually, she said, "I, we, are attracted to one another."

"Wow," Laurie spoke up, "I never would have picked you to have a crazy fling."

Briallen furrowed her brow, "I'm not having a fling, Laurie. I really like him."

"You really like Jackson? Jackson who won't speak to me because I told him there was no way I was sleeping with him?" Kayla asked.

Wren looked around uncertainly, and said, "I think he's hit on all of us, Bray, at some point."

Briallen took a breath, "I know, but that doesn't mean he can't have feelings for me."

"Maybe," Kayla said doubtfully.

Briallen sipped her soda, hating being the center of this conversation.

"Bray," Laurie started, "he told Brennen he's sleeping with you. Don't you think that's kind of…rude?"

Briallen was caught off guard, but she tried to smile, saying, "People had to find out eventually."

"But don't you think there might've been better people to tell first? Rather than Brennen?" Wren asked.

"I told Allie," Briallen said softly.

"But, Allie's not a selfish pig who's done half the cast," Laurie interjected.

"I don't think Brennen slept with half the cast," Briallen defended.

"Okay, _tried_ to do half the cast," Laurie conceded.

"And it hasn't been that long since Jackson broke things off with Emily," Kayla added, "I just think you should be careful, Bray."

Briallen was quiet, wanting to defend herself and wanting to defend Jackson, but not wanting to put such a very personal experience on display. The things she was feeling were very intimate, very precious to her, and she didn't want to have to bare all of it. Allie was the only person with whom she truly felt comfortable opening up her heart. She hoped the rest of them could understand that.

After a minute, she said, "I care about Jackson, and I can't hold his past against him. Someone had to be his first relationship."

The others tried to agree, but there was still doubt in their faces.

Allie sat quietly next to Briallen, listening, trying to smile and trying to be supportive.

* * *

Later that night, Briallen was at home using her Facebook page to check up on some friends and family at home. It was a good resource, she'd decided, for keeping up with people who were thousands of miles away. She tried to send her parents regular pictures of what she was doing, and she chatted with her brothers and few friends fairly often.

That night, Briallen noticed she had a message from Carter. They also kept up with each other regularly, and Briallen had been able to get to know his fiancée, Beth a little better, as well. Briallen thought she seemed sweet, and she was happy for Carter.

Clicking on the message, she read:

_Hello from your fellow Brit! Hope all is still well in the States. I hope you're getting along better with your new Bert, as the last time we caught up he seemed to be quite a thorn in your side. I just wanted to let you know that Beth and I have set a wedding date. It will be the seventeenth of October. I wish I could invite you and your family, but I know you're contracted through November. However, Beth wants to go on holiday to the Caribbean for our honeymoon. So, I'd love to come through Atlanta and catch the show on our way. I've never been able to see it, properly. Let me know what you think… Carter._

Smiling to herself, Briallen replied that she would love to see him and Beth, and that she would arrange for tickets if he wanted. While she was typing, Allie came into the room.

Seeing Briallen smiling at her computer, she dropped onto the couch and asked, "What's made you so happy?"

Briallen shook her head, "Not much. Carter wants to come through on his way to honeymoon. He wants to see the show."

Allie smiled, "Carter is so sweet. He's a genuinely kind, decent guy. Beth is lucky."

"Yeah…" Briallen agreed.

Allie took a breath, and said, "Someone like him would be perfect for you, Bray. Someone sweet and funny, with a good heart."

Briallen cut her eyes toward Allie, "But I have Jackson."

Allie nodded, biting her lip to keep from saying more.

* * *

The following night, curled up in Jackson's bed watching television, Briallen was still thinking about what her friends had said at lunch the day before. She wasn't questioning the way she felt about Jackson, but she felt the need to say something. She wanted to know that he understood that gossiping with Brennen about her was wrong. Briallen assumed Jackson didn't know the code of conduct for a real relationship, and she wanted to help him understand.

Quietly, she turned to him and asked, "Jackson? Did you did you talk to Brennen about our relationship?"

Jackson gave her a quick look that was somewhere between surprise and panic, but quickly composed himself. After a moment, he admitted, "Yes."

Briallen hesitated, "Why?"

Jackson sighed, and kissed her forehead, "Because…he asked. He asked directly if we were sleeping together, and it was either come clean, or lie."

Briallen thought about it for a moment, and couldn't argue with the logic.

Giving her an encouraging smile, Jackson said, "He's Brennen. He thinks he has to know this stuff. But who cares? We're adults, right?"

Thinking, Briallen replied, "Yes."

"Let them gossip," Jackson went on, "What we do is our business."

"You're right," Briallen agreed, "That's one of Mary's rules. Never explain anything," she giggled.

Jackson kissed her again, and Briallen let her worries slip away.

* * *

The next day, on Thursday afternoon, they had a grueling variety show rehearsal. Stuart was pushing hard for the show to be excellent in order to raise a large sum for two local charities. He wanted a good showing, since there would be press reviews and some people with very deep pockets attending. He encouraged the cast to get out of their usual roles and try things that would surprise and delight the audience.

So some of the dancers were singing solos or duets, Trina was doing a piano solo, and Allie was going back to her roots and doing a dance piece. In addition, the whole cast had decided to open with the _Glee_ version of _Don't Stop Believing_, to get the crowd engaged. It was a fun, popular song that would appeal to their audience. Then, there was Briallen and Jackson's duet at the end. When they wrapped up for the day, Briallen felt like it would all come together, eventually. She thought she'd put in a good day's work.

As she was packing her shoulder bag, Stuart approached and asked if he could see her for a moment. Calling on Jackson as well, he led them back to his office, past all of the dressing rooms. As the company manager, Stuart was in charge of all the show's logistics, including press coverage, special events, administrative needs, and a host of other things. Not sure what he needed, Briallen was hesitantly curious.

Closing the door and having them sit, Stuart addressed she and Jackson, saying, "So," he sat on the edge of his desk, "it's my understanding that the two of you have begun a relationship?"

Briallen was momentarily stunned, but slowly nodded.

Jackson stated, "News travels fast."

Stuart chuckled, "You should both already know that."

Neither argued.

Stuart went on, "I'm not meeting with you because I'm upset, necessarily. You know that this company treats you like adults. What you do on your own time is your business, and we like to stay out of that. However, in this case, because you are the two leads in this show, I felt the need to say something," he paused, looking them over, "I just need to make sure that you understand that your obligation, first and foremost, is to this show. What goes on after hours cannot affect the quality of the show, or the caliber of your performance. If you fall madly in love and get married, you still have eight shows a week. If this ends badly and you hate each other, you still have eight shows a week. Together. Do you understand?"

Briallen swallowed hard and nodded. Jackson followed suit.

Stuart looked at them, and sighed, saying, "I just want to make sure that you think this all the way through. Performing with an ex-lover that you can't stand is very difficult. Hell, performing with an ex-lover with whom you part amicably is hard. But you will have to do it, in that case. It's the nature of this job. But I hate to see you take the risk of that happening unnecessarily."

Briallen nodded again, and said softly, "I understand, but I am genuinely interested in Jackson. I truly care about him."

Stuart nodded, and Jackson said nothing.

* * *

Just a few days later, on Monday night, the cast was due to perform their variety show onstage at the smaller theater just down the street. It was difficult giving up their one day off to perform, but it was for two good causes. They were raising money for a local cancer foundation, and for a center that provided education and social opportunities for those with special needs.

Over the course of the day, they had the chance to meet with leaders from both charities and had to sign a number of posters to be auctioned off during the event. Briallen would also be auctioning off one of her parrot-head umbrellas from the show, which was a rarity.

Also, as part of the preparation, the cast had a full dress and technical rehearsal that afternoon. Working through each number, they ironed out the kinks and worked with the technical crew to adjust lights and sound as necessary. It was tedious, but unavoidable. They had a little fun, as well, laughing at their mistakes and deciding how to make things excellent for that night.

Then, at the end of the rehearsal came Briallen and Jackson's duet. The two of them took the stage in the best representations of the _Dirty Dancing _costumes they could find. Briallen felt quite lovely in the soft, flowing white dress that left her shoulders bare. Then, under the warm lights and to the thrum of the song, she and Jackson began to dance.

They'd gone through this many times, perfecting it, but it was different on the stage. As with every performance, there was an added thrill to being bathed in lights and hearing the house flooded with song. And, for Briallen, there was the added rush of dancing with a man who made her heart pound.

So they danced, sang, and moved flawlessly together. Jackson whirled and held her. He breathed warm on her neck when they were close, and his eyes were hungry when they separated. Then, for the finale, he moved to far stage right, and she to far stage left. Briallen ran, and he caught and lifted her into the swan lift. For an impossible amount of time, she hung there, feeling as though she might actually fly. Then, Jackson gently set her down, the dance complete.

Briallen looked at him, enraptured. Dancing the sensual, beautiful duet with him left her warm and full of want, and she knew he could see it in her eyes. She knew she was ridiculously in love with him, and she was having a hard time keeping it to herself.

As though he could hear what she was thinking, Jackson stepped in close to her. Before anyone could cut the rehearsal or make corrections, he kissed her full on the mouth, in front of everyone. He kissed her while everyone watched.

There would be no question, now, that something was going on between them. From the wings, Briallen could hear a few gasps and the beginning of gossip. She could feel their eyes on her, but she didn't care. She melted into him, wanting him. Briallen loved him. She was certain she loved him.

In spite of the late hour and the fact that they'd put in a full day, Briallen went home with Jackson after their show. She wanted him especially badly that night. She wanted him to make love to her, which he gladly did, to the sound of Bon Jovi's _Bed of Roses_ playing on the stereo. It was a fulfillment of a fantasy Briallen hadn't realized she'd had, until now. It was a night she would never forget.

Lying in Jackson's arms, sated, after midnight, Briallen said, "It's in my name, you know."

"What?" Jackson asked.

"My name," she went on, "is Briallen Rose. I suppose that might be why the roses are such a theme."

"I see," Jackson said, tracing his finger down her neck, to her breast, "I love the way you say that."

"What?"

"Your name," he explained.

Briallen smiled, "It's called a 'tapped R'. Almost rolling it, but not quite. It's Welsh."

"It's sexy," Jackson murmured, kissing her.

Pulling back and making small talk to avoid what she was really thinking, Briallen stated, "They asked Stuart if we would do another charity show in the fall."

Jackson kept tracing her body, "That's good. It was a good cause."

Taking a deep breath, Briallen decided just to say what was weighing on her mind, "Jackson, can I ask you something?"

He kissed her mouth and said, "Sure."

Pulling away a little, she asked, "Do you think, and I know this is awfully early to ask this, so I'll ask it this way…" she took a breath, "Do you think that you could love me? I mean, if we keep on, could you fall in love with me?"

Jackson was very still, and he studied her eyes.

"Because," she went on, "I'm very sure that I might be in love with you."

Jackson was very quiet for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then he kissed her deeply, and Briallen wanted to believe he meant yes.

* * *

The next day was a Tuesday. It was the twenty-sixth of May, and the weather was warm, with a heavy, oppressiveness in the air. The trees along the street were in full bloom or had filled out in verdant abundance. The sun was brilliant, even as it moved toward twilight, and Briallen was running late getting to the theater. She came hurrying through the stage door about ten minutes later than she liked to arrive. She was usually one of the first to get there, preferring to gather her thoughts before going through costuming and makeup. Tonight, she went straight to her dressing room, hoping to still have a free minute or two.

On her way, Briallen noticed she got several odd looks from her fellow cast members. She assumed it was because of her and Jackson's kiss at the variety show the night before. She assumed the gossip was raging and was determined not to let it fluster her. Briallen ignored the stares and found solace in her empty dressing room.

She was sitting at the counter, straightening her cosmetics, when Allie came in the room. The expression on Allie's face was somewhere between anger and fear. She looked ready to cry, or scream.

Briallen looked at her, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Allie took a shaking breath, and said, "Braillen…"

Briallen was very still, "What? Did something happen? Is everyone okay?"

"Yes. No. I mean, everyone's fine, but…"

"Then, what in the world is wrong?" Briallen asked.

Allie swallowed hard and then cursed under her breath, spitting out, "He's an asshole, Briallen. An absolute asshole and, god, I didn't want to have to tell you this…"

"Tell me what?" Briallen asked, her tone fearful.

Mumbling more curses under her breath, Allie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Fumbling with it for a minute, she finally held it out to Briallen, saying, "I can't explain it, it's horrible. I don't want you to see it, but you have to. You have to know."

Confused and afraid, Briallen took the phone. Looking at it, she saw that Allie had pulled up a video link. She watched what was playing and gradually felt her stomach turn. Briallen froze and began to tremble as she watched.

It was a video of her and Jackson having sex in her dressing room. It took just a moment for Briallen to realize it was the first time, when he'd told her to leave the boots on. She stared, horrified, at the streaming video of Jackson pinning her against the wall for all to see.

"It…it was Brennen, wasn't it?" Briallen choked out, "He posted this?"

Allie's eyes were big, her expression angry and sad, as she said, "No Bray. It was Jackson. He uploaded it to YouTube for Brennen to see. Granted, he had it set to private, but Brennen forwarded it to a bunch of cast members."

Briallen stared at her friend, frozen, and then said, "No. Jackson wouldn't do that. Brennen must be lying."

Swallowing hard, Allie said, "It's Jackson's account, Bray. And look at the caption."

Briallen scrolled down and read:

_This game has gotten too complicated, so here's your proof. And this is just the first of many times I got Poppins out of her corset. You owe me $100. Maybe more, since I got her to leave the boots on. Your Mary Poppins fantasy, brought to you by me. Pay up, Brennen._

There was a very long, very quiet moment when Briallen said nothing. She stared at the phone intently, as though if she looked hard enough, she might find some answers. She stared, and she began to shake violently. Briallen chewed her lip, fighting back sobs or screams, she wasn't sure which. Her heart pounded in her ears Her head spun as though she might be having some sort of panic attack. Then, she dropped the phone with a clatter and ran for the bathroom, where she proceeded to vomit.

Several minutes later, when Carol arrived to help get Briallen ready for the show, she was still in the bathroom. Allie was still sitting in the chair, not sure what to do.

Seeing Carol, Allie said, "Briallen's not feeling very well. She might need a minute…"

Carol checked her watch, "I don't think we have a minute."

Allie heaved a sigh and crossed to knock on the bathroom door. Getting no response, she said, "Bray? Briallen? Are you okay? Please, just let me in…"

There was no answer for quite some time.

Seeing Carol growing anxious, Allie tried again, "Please open the door, Bray. Please?"

When there was still no answer, Allie turned to Carol and asked, "Could you give me a minute?"

"One minute," Carol agreed and stepped outside.

Knocking on the door again, Allie said, "It's just me, Bray. Carol stepped out. Please, open the door."

After another moment, there was a tiny click and the door opened. Pushing it open further, Allie took in the scene.

Briallen was sitting on the floor of the tiny bathroom, her knees to her chest. She was shaking, and her face was streaked with tears. She looked ashen and entirely broken.

Eventually, she said, "I can't go out there, Allie. I can't face them, knowing they all saw that. I can't believe he would, I can't believe I let him…I just can't, Allie. I just…"

And with that, she started vomiting again.

Bending down to comfort her friend, Allie smoothed Briallen's hair back. She felt how badly she was shaking and knew this was not going to be solved quickly.

Standing up and crossing back to the door, Allie stuck her head out of the dressing room. She looked at Carol, and said, "I don't think she's going on tonight."

Carol was wide-eyed.

"Go get Kirkland. Now," Allie instructed.

Carol disappeared, her eyes worried.

Allie went back to Briallen and asked gently, "What do you want me to do? Can you do this show?"

Briallen sat there, head in her hands, saying, "I can't go out there with him. I can't. I just…" she turned wide, sorrowful eyes on Allie, and said, "It was personal, Allie. It was special. I mean, I'm not a slapper. I'm not. I just thought…and he used me. I mean, I was just a bet?"

Briallen put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs, and Allie wanted to kill Jackson Devereaux. She wanted to hurt him, badly. Right now, though, she had to deal with the most immediate problem. Reassuring Briallen that she would be back, Allie closed the door to the bathroom. She came out into the hall at the same time Kirkland came around the corner with Carol.

He approached quickly and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Briallen is sick," Allie stated, "Really sick."

Kirkland furrowed his brow, "Sick enough to justify using her understudy? What's wrong with her?"

Allie chewed her lip and said, "She's throwing up. I can't get her out of the bathroom."

Kirkland gave her a long look and said, "Allie, I've heard there was some drama going on today. I don't know what it is, but I hope this isn't part of it. I need to know if Briallen legitimately cannot perform."

Noticing that Jackson had emerged from his dressing room and was standing within earshot, Allie stated, "Kirkland, Briallen is on her knees in the bathroom, and she cannot stop vomiting. I don't think she can stand up," locking eyes with Jackson, she went on, "She looks like death. She's a mess. So, yes, I believe she is legitimately unable to perform."

Kirkland paused, then sighed and said, "All right. I'll get Wren and let the stage managers know. Carol? Let's make this happen."

He walked away then, and Allie cut Jackson another look, hoping she might kill him with her eyes. Jackson turned away, completely indifferent.


	9. Chapter 9: Wrecked

**Here we go, folks. Things take quite a few turns, from here. Let me know what you think. **

* * *

**Chapter 9: Wrecked**

In the flurry of getting ready to do the show with Wren understudying, Allie didn't have a chance to check back on Briallen before the show began. As much as it troubled her to know that her best friend was locked in her dressing room, devastated, Allie had to go on. She had to get costumed and coiffed to play Winifred Banks, because the show had to go on. So Allie pulled her focus and took the stage.

More than an hour later, when they finally reached intermission, she headed straight for Briallen's dressing room. Pushing the door open, she found that her friend was gone. Her things were neatly organized, her costumes hung carefully, but Briallen had clearly bolted from the premises the moment everyone was occupied on the stage. Allie heaved a sigh, imagining her friend at home dwelling on what Jackson had done to her.

It was the slowest intermission Allie could remember, followed by the most labored second act she could imagine. She was distracted, she knew, and she tried to keep her eyes off of Jackson. Allie focused, instead, on Wren's performance. It took a little more concentration to perform with an understudy, because the flow of things was always a little different. Even small things, like the inflection of Wren's speech, made things feel different. Still, the show moved to its conclusion, and Allie was relieved.

With a quick smile of encouragement for Wren, she headed back to her dressing room to de-costume. More grateful than usual for her dresser, Allie tied her fluffy, blonde hair behind her head and grabbed her purse. Stepping into her shoes, she headed towards the stage door.

On her way down the hall, she nearly ran into Jackson, who was coming out of his dressing room. He seemed to be considering something as he looked at her.

Before she could walk away, Jackson said, "Allie?"

"What?" she snapped.

"Look, tell Poppins I didn't mean for the whole cast to see that. Brennen has no filter sometimes."

Allie stopped, feeling her temper flaring, and spat, "It's appalling to me that you think _that_ is what's wrong with this situation."

Jackson gave her a half-smile, "No one else was supposed to see it, Allie. It was a bet between two guys."

Allie grit her teeth, "And you think that betting on women is okay?"

"It was a harmless game. And I never told her I wanted something serious. We were having fun," Jackson stated.

"Don't give me that," Allie growled, "you knew very well that Briallen isn't the type to sleep with someone she doesn't care about. I know what lengths you went to, to make her feel like you were really interested."

"She had every right to say no," Jackson argued.

"And she would have, if she'd known you just wanted someone else to hook up with for a few weeks!" Allie shouted.

"Again, I never told her I wanted a relationship. I never said I loved her. I never said we were doing more than having fun," Jackson insisted.

"That's quite an easy out, for you," Allie spat.

Jackson sighed, "Maybe it would be good for Poppins to realize that two people can just have fun together."

"Stop calling her that," Allie demanded with clenched teeth.

"It's a harmless nick-name."

"No. When you use it, it's just disrespectful," Allie countered.

Jackson studied her for a moment, and then said, "She'll get over it, Allie. She'll realize in a few days that she was just caught up in a physical attraction. She'll be grateful it ended before it got awkward."

"Awkward?" Allie squeaked, "And you think this isn't _awkward_!"

"Whatever."

Allie just looked at him, disgusted, and said, "I guess I should have expected that, because you live your life saying 'whatever'. I actually believe you didn't set out to hurt Briallen, because you never even took the time to consider that she might have feelings for you. You weren't thinking about her, you were thinking about you. You make every decision based on whatever is good for _you_, what's good for the moment. Other people are just there to make you happy, or inconvenience you. You've never felt anything other than casual indifference for anyone, so you don't know what it is to really care about something, or someone. You don't know what it means to love, or hurt, because you just don't care."

Jackson rolled his eyes, and answered, "Thanks for your psychological evaluation."

Allie narrowed her eyes and stepped in closer to him, saying, "You've crossed the line this time, Jackson. Maybe all the other people you've used have just been angry, or mad at themselves for being with you, but Briallen genuinely fell for you. And she's never been in love before. You have no idea what it meant for her to open up to you. You have no idea how you've affected her. And you've _wrecked_ her," she paused, "What you've done, it's disgusting. You've caused a wound that will be incredibly difficult to heal. You've devastated a genuinely kind, trusting, passionate person who's never let herself fall in love before. You played a horrible game, and you didn't even have the decency to just break it off with her. You humiliated her in front of people she has to see every day for the next six months. But I doubt it matters to you, because you don't give a damn about anyone but yourself!"

Jackson sighed again, "I told you, _only_ Brennen was supposed to see the video. I'm going to delete it."

Allie snorted, "Well, the damage is done. And you really thought someone like Brennen wouldn't share something like that?"

Jackson shrugged.

"You didn't even think about it," Allie said lowly, "because you never think past the next five minutes!"

Jackson smiled, "It's a good way to live. I've never been at home agonizing over someone who didn't really like me. I move on."

Furious, and out of words, Allie drew her hand back and slapped him across the face. Then, having nothing else to say, she stormed out of the theater.

When Allie arrived home nearly half an hour later, she found the apartment dark. Assuming Briallen had retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom, she quietly placed her purse and keys on the table near the door. She went to the kitchen and flipped on the light, and then scanned the refrigerator for something to drink. Allie settled for fruit juice and then headed back into the living room. She startled, however, when she saw Briallen sitting on the couch. Juice in hand, she crossed to the chair and sat down.

Her voice heavy with concern, Allie asked, "Bray? How long have you been sitting here?"

Briallen shrugged, and Allie looked her friend over. Her hair was haphazardly pulled back into a rust-colored knot at her neck. She was wrapped in an old quilt, over well-worn sweats. Yet, somehow, her eyes bothered Allie the most. They were bloodshot and puffy, and her face was etched with something close to grief.

Taking a deep breath, Allie said, "I know there's nothing I can say to make this better, Bray. He's just…such an asshole."

Briallen gave a dry, half-chuckle and said, "There's plenty you can say, Allie. You can say that I'm an absolute idiot for thinking he was really interested. You can tell me how stupid I was to think he could change, that he would change. You could point out how irresponsible and immature it was of me to behave the way I have."

Carefully, Allie moved to the sofa, sitting next to her friend, and replied, "But I won't. Because best friends don't say things like that."

There was a very quiet moment, with Briallen staring at her hands. Then, as though she simply couldn't maintain the bitter, angry façade anymore, Briallen started to cry again. Fat, heavy tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she managed to choke out, "I really loved him, Allie. And I just feel like…yesterday's rubbish."

With both anger and empathetic sadness gripping her heart, Allie put her arms around her friend. Like the mother she played in the show, knowing there wasn't much she could say, she held Briallen close. Allie held her until she fell asleep, with tearstains still glimmering on her cheeks.

* * *

The following morning, the cast gathered in the rehearsal studio for their weekly rehearsal. The atmosphere, however, was understandably more tense than usual. Amongst those cast members who'd seen the video of Briallen and Jackson, gossip was raging. Those who hadn't were either morbidly curious or entirely disgusted. Jackson was nonchalant, stretching himself out for rehearsal. He joked with Brennen and barely looked up when Briallen entered the room.

There was a moment of hushed uncertainty as Briallen crossed to her usual chair to prep for rehearsal. Then, when she said nothing, conversation picked up again. Allie, who'd entered just before her friend, went to the row of chairs against the right-hand wall to change into her character shoes. As she fitted them on her feet, she picked up on the conversation going on to her right.

"I don't know what she expected," Melissa was saying, "he never pretended to want a commitment."

"You don't know what he said to her," Emily said softly.

Melissa rolled her eyes, "It doesn't matter. You have to see through crap like that. I told you that, too, Em."

"I can't believe she would let herself be taped like that. We tried to warn her. How could she not know what he was doing?" Kelly spoke up.

"I always thought she was a little…different, but I never thought she was that stupid," Melissa added.

Feeling anger rising up in her chest, Allie turned toward the group of them and said, loudly enough for all of them to hear, "You know, _she_ is in the room. _She_ is the victim. _He_ is the asshole."

There was a moment of very uncomfortable silence among the gossiping dancers, but the discussion stopped. Allie gave them all a hard look before standing to begin rehearsal.

Three hours later, they were finished. Kirkland was satisfied and they were prepared for the few changes the week held. Briallen had survived, Allie noticed, and no one else had dared to make a comment. Even Jackson had been fairly subdued, keeping his focus on the music and choreography.

As they all changed shoes or gathered their things to leave, however, Brennen made it a point to pass where Briallen sat. She was removing her boots, which she liked to wear with a long skirt during rehearsals to give her the right lines.

With a knowing smirk, Brennen stopped, looked at Briallen's legs, and said, "Nice boots."

Allie wanted to hit him as she watched her friend's hands tremble as she unlaced the boots. Leaving them in the rehearsal studio, Briallen grabbed her sandals and bolted from the room. Jackson, having heard the exchange, still said nothing.

* * *

Just a few hours later, they were all forced together again, faced with the prospect of yet another show. Briallen had intentionally avoided Allie for the afternoon, not wanting to rehash how horribly she felt again, and also not wanting to cry. She knew she had to get through the show, because she couldn't afford to claim sickness once again. Kirkland wasn't likely to believe she was still fighting a stomach flu unless she checked herself into a hospital. Briallen also realized that she had no choice but to face Jackson. Unless she planned to quit, this was the reality of what she had to do. This was the lot she'd cast for herself.

So she drew up her courage, avoided everyone until curtain time, and put a smile on her face. Detaching herself just enough to feel mostly numb, Briallen went through the motions of the show. She sang the songs, danced the dances, and felt a little like she was watching herself through the wrong end of a telescope. She knew she was performing, knew an audience was watching, but she felt nothing. She was on autopilot, and she hoped it didn't show too terribly.

And after nearly three hours, it was over. The curtain was down and Briallen was free. Without a word or a passing glance, she headed to her dressing room. There, she let Carol help her undress.

Trying to be kind, Carol stated, "I hope you're feeling better."

Briallen gave her a tight smile and gathered her things to leave. Then, she made her escape into the hallway, where Jackson looked as though he'd been waiting for her. Cutting her eyes toward the floor, Briallen made to go around him. He stopped her, though, and Briallen was forced to look up into his face.

When she met his eyes, Jackson said, "Look, we have to talk to each other sometime."

The pain was still so fresh, Briallen couldn't find words.

Jackson sighed, "I deleted the video. Only Brennen was supposed to see it."

Perhaps out of sheer, disbelieving rage, Briallen was able to say, "And you thought that made it okay?"

Jackson shrugged, "It was just a dumb bet. I was making a point."

"And what point was that?" Briallen squeaked.

"That you can, in fact, have fun. It's kind of a compliment," Jackson explained.

Wanting to vomit again, Briallen said, "A compliment? You think that making me look cheap and tawdry is a compliment?"

Jackson ran a hand through his hair, "There's nothing wrong with having fun, Briallen. Why can't we just be two people having fun? Lots of girls are fine knowing it's just fun. They don't care who knows. They even find it empowering."

Briallen was absolutely floored, "Maybe that's okay, for them. But I believe I explicitly told you that I wasn't interested in just being _fun_!"

"All right, fine," Jackson conceded, "but, come on, you knew this wasn't going to last. You'd get tired of me. I just saved you the awkward conversation. We both know I'm not the commitment type."

On the verge of tears again, Briallen whispered, "That may be true, but you could've had the decency just to tell me. And to ask me, before you…filmed me."

Jackson flashed her a dimpled smile, and stated, "You looked good, Bray. And no one saw more than your bra. And the boots."

Absolutely disgusted and unable to find any other words, Briallen turned to walk away. Finding one last shred of courage, she turned and said, "You used me, Jackson. You spent time with me, making me trust you, knowing you only wanted to use me to win a bet. And not even a worthy bet. Just a bet that was made to feed your incredible pride," she paused, "I get it Jackson. You don't care about me, because you don't care about anyone. But maybe, every now and then, you should look at the damage you leave behind."

Jackson just stared at her.

With a hitch in her voice, Briallen said, "I could've loved you. And you have no idea what that means."

Swallowing over the tears, she put her chin in the air and walked away from him.

* * *

Over the next week, Allie watched Briallen move through each day in a muted fog. They went about their routines, eating breakfast, going running or to yoga, and meeting occasionally for lunch. They did the shows, and Briallen kept strictly to herself. She smiled, sang, and did the part she loved with predictable consistency. And she avoided Jackson, Allie noticed, with great intention. She didn't even meet his eyes, unless their roles demanded it.

It was killing Briallen, Allie knew, having to go about her life and facing Jackson every night. Allie could see the unshed tears and the anger behind the tight smile. She understood that every moment of Briallen's time at the theater was now spent avoiding breaking down or having another confrontation with Jackson. As a friend, it was a hard thing to witness.

So, by Sunday night, Allie felt ready to scream. She desperately wanted Briallen to have a break from the torment, from her sadness and regret. She wanted to do something. So, determined to lift her friend's spirits, Allie insisted that they go out for drinks after the show. It was an earlier evening than usual, being Sunday, and Laurie, Wren and Kayla were up for it. They felt badly for Briallen as well and thought a little fun was in order.

It took a bit of convincing, but they managed to get Briallen out of theater and down the street to a trendy restaurant and wine bar. It was a fun place, serving Spanish tapas and a variety of good wine. Choosing a couple good bottles for their table and a variety of the creative, appetizer-sized portions called tapas, they settled in to chat. Briallen sat with them, looking at least a little less upset.

Laurie vented her latest frustration about constantly having to work with Brennen, and Wren had them laughing at stories about her mother's decision to adopt a purebred, utterly evil, Persian cat. They talked about Kayla's wedding, which she was holding off on until her contract with the show was over. Still, she was enjoying trying on dresses. They had a good time, overall. Even Briallen finally loosened up. To Allie's surprised, she loosened up even more than usual. By the end of the evening, Briallen had managed to polish off a good portion of a bottle of wine. But she was finally smiling, so no one stopped her.

When they were ready to leave, however, Allie had to pull Briallen up from the table. She had to put an arm around her friend to keep her upright as they left the restaurant. The others gave Allie an understanding look, and made sure Briallen had her purse before heading home. Then, Allie set off to walk the few blocks to their apartment with Briallen stumbling beside her.

As they walked, Briallen slurred, "He is an asshole, Allie."

Allie nodded, saying, "I'm kind of glad to hear you say that."

"I still love him, though," Briallen went on, "I'm just that stupid."

Sighing, Allie said, "It's hard to get past something like this, Bray. I know that. So give yourself a break."

"I'm also really drunk," Briallen admitted.

Allie chuckled and helped her friend stay upright.

Briallen said no more as she clutched Allie's arm the rest of the way home.

* * *

Overnight, Allie couldn't help hearing Briallen throwing up in the bathroom, and she wasn't surprised to find her friend sound asleep long past dawn. Brewing a pot of coffee and leaving some painkillers on the counter, Allie hoped Briallen would sleep off most of the hangover. She hoped her friend would spend the day resting and not making herself crazy over Jackson.

As for Allie, she was meeting Sam for the day. They'd agreed to spend Allie's Monday off together, since the show schedule didn't allow many traditional date nights. Since it was so warm, with summer rolling in like a heavy, southern steamroller, they'd decided to head north of Atlanta to Lake Lanier. So Allie packed her towel, donned a swimsuit, and headed out the door, leaving a note for Briallen.

Once at the lake, she and Sam claimed a spot on one of the public beaches. Relaxing, they watched the children splashing in the warm, sparkling water. Studying Sam, Allie felt a rush of feelings, as she always did.

Sam O'Connor was a picture of the textbook rock star. His longish, honey-blonde hair tended to fall into his hazel eyes. He was tall and lanky, which complimented Allie perfectly. She remembered the first time she'd seen him playing bass guitar for a fairly successful band with big dreams. He had been sweaty, shirtless, and sporting leather and tattoos. He was exactly the kind of guy Allie went for and exactly the kind of guy who always broke her heart.

They'd been on the same path, then. They used each other, cheated on each other, and otherwise indulged their self-destructive habits. In the midst of it all, though, Sam had nearly died from a drug overdose. The experience had rocked Allie and had made her realize how fruitless her search was to replace her father and to find happiness in empty pleasure. It had been then, almost three years ago, that Allie had sobered up, literally and emotionally.

She'd been there when Sam got out of the hospital. They'd gotten clean together. They'd started really talking to one another. And through their inseparable friendship, they realized they really loved each other. Now, Allie's career was going much more smoothly, and Sam was a successful local music producer and radio DJ. They loved each other, respected each other, and knew that, someday, they would settle down together. For today, though, they had the lake, and Sam was listening to Allie muse about Briallen.

"It's just horrible," she was saying, "She's such a soft-hearted person."

Sam raked his hair back, and said, "I hate to say it, but I understand Jackson, though. I used to act like that, like nothing mattered."

"I know," Allie admitted, "I did too, I hate to say. And it's a pretty rough existence, caring about no one."

"Except, I think we both did care, on some level. We were just running from our demons," Sam proposed.

Allie nodded, "Maybe that's what's so wrong about Jackson. From what Briallen has said, Jackson doesn't have any real demons. He's a golden child, bred for show business. He had doting parents and a good life. He's been a star since he was a kid. He just, has no reason to care about anyone other than himself."

"That's dangerous, and sounds like exactly the type of person who would spend such a huge amount of time deliberately manipulating someone," Sam stated.

"Yeah. And we get to pick up the pieces he left behind," Allie sighed, looking out over the lake.

Sam rubbed her shoulders, then, and Allie leaned into him, grateful.

* * *

Later that evening, Allie put her key into the lock of the apartment. Sam had dropped her off, planning to grab some dinner and come back shortly. They had talked about watching a movie to finish off their day together.

Still feeling warm and happy from the lake, Allie opened the door and dropped her things on the table. Closing the door behind her, she immediately knew something was wrong. Briallen was sitting on the couch, staring at her hands. She was absolutely still, and she looked as though she hadn't showered, changed, or moved, all day.

Immediately feeling a badly for leaving her hung-over, depressed friend at home all day, Allie crossed to the couch. Sitting down, Allie offered, "I went to the lake with Sam. It was our day, you know…"

Briallen said nothing.

Allie smoothed Briallen's hair, and started, "I'm sorry you were alone."

Before she could finish, Allie realized Briallen was holding something in her hands. She realized Briallen was staring not at her hands, but what she was holding. It also took Allie about five seconds to realize what Briallen was holding. It was a pregnancy test.

Looking at it, Allie breathed, "Bray…oh god…"

In a flat, emotionless voice, Briallen said, "I was so caught up in what happened last week, I didn't realize I'd missed a period, until today. So I figured, I'd go to the drugstore…"

Staring at the unmistakable, pink plus sign on the test in front of them, Allie asked softly, "Weren't you…careful, Bray?"

Briallen still didn't move, "Yes. Most of the time. But, I'm sure it's wrong. I don't feel anything. I would know, I'm sure. I'll get another one tomorrow."

Taking her friend's hand, Allie very gently took the pregnancy test from Briallen's fingers. In a soft voice, she said, "Briallen, these are almost never wrong. Not when they're positive."

Studying the offensive, pink plus sign again, Allie put her arm around Briallen's shoulders, and said, "I just, I don't know what to say…"

Briallen started to tremble as realization fully set in. She seemed to emerge from her fog in a flurry of emotion. Standing up so abruptly that Allie nearly fell over, she choked out, "No, no Allie. No! There's no way this is happening! There's no way that…I mean, the show, Allie..."

While Allie watched, Briallen had what looked like a very real emotional breakdown. She paced the room, her hands in her disheveled hair. After a moment, she went on, her voice rising, "I can't, I mean, I hate him. I _hate_ him, Allie! I hate him because he made me love him! And I just, how could I have…how is it even _possible_ that this is happening to me? I...I'm Mary _bloody_ Poppins, for godsakes!"

With that, Briallen dropped to her knees as though the emotional weight of it all had become too great. She curled up on the floor, knees to her chest, and put her face in her hands. She clutched at her hair, shaking, and Allie was scared. She was afraid for her friend and she had no idea what to do. She had no idea how to fix this, how to undo the pain that had been caused or to avoid the incredibly difficult things that lie in the future. Holding a positive pregnancy test, Allie realized that a very bad breakup had suddenly turned into a very serious, life-changing situation. She felt just a portion of the weight that must be bearing down on Briallen, and it took her breath.

Not knowing what else to do, Allie knelt down in front of her friend. She put her arms around Briallen, holding her tightly. Thirty minutes later, when Sam came through the door, they still sat there in absolute silence. Sam, having lived enough life to know that something was very wrong, set dinner on the table.

He leaned down, kissed Allie on the head and whispered, "Whenever you're ready," before heading to Allie's room to check his email and give them privacy.

Briallen and Allie sat there on the floor, frozen, facing a reality neither wanted to confront.


	10. Chapter 10: Choice

**So...I'm sorry this has taken so long, but I opened a show and got some sort of horrible flu. I'm better now, though, and the show is running. Because of all that, you get two chapters. I hope you'll read and send me some reviews...I could use the encouragement. :-) I'm also already working on the next chapter to make up for the haitus. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Choice**

After what felt like hours of sitting on the floor, Briallen quietly picked herself up to stand. Still sniffling, she retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom and refused to discuss the situation further. Allie questioned her and tried to say supportive things, but Briallen became stoic and refused to be engaged in either comfort or more crying. So Sam and Allie quietly ate dinner, with Allie only briefly explaining what had transpired. They both understood that Briallen was in an excruciatingly difficult situation but neither wanted to expound on it. Nor did they have any answers.

After dinner, Allie looked at Sam and said, "Do you think you would take a rain check on spending the night?"

Sam gave her a gentle smile, and answered, "Sure. We have a lifetime."

Allie smiled and kissed him softly.

As he made his way towards the door, Sam turned back and carefully asked, "Allie, do you think…maybe she should…?"

Allie felt a stab of unwanted emotion, and said, "I don't know."

Sam let the question, as vague as it had been, drop, and quietly left the apartment.

Allie knocked on Briallen's door several times that night, but could get no response. She heard no sobbing or even sniffling. Still, Allie was deeply troubled. Briallen was in a foreign country, thousands of miles from home and family, and pregnant with a very unwanted child. Jackson's child. The child of a selfish, arrogant man who genuinely felt no remorse about having used her so horribly. And as a capstone on the disaster, Briallen's livelihood depended on her performing in a show in which she absolutely could not be pregnant. It was more than Allie could process. She had no great words of wisdom or brilliant answers.

So Allie went to bed. She crawled under the covers and hoped that tomorrow, with the sunrise, they might have a clue how to proceed.

* * *

For the next week, Briallen continued to move through life in a fog. She went about the motions of the show, putting on a smile and high-kicking her way through each performance. She was still detached, however, as though she wouldn't be able to tell what happened at any given show if asked. Allie watched her friend during each intermission and in her dressing room after the shows as Briallen stared at the wall or out into space.

The cast seemed to have divided itself into three distinct camps with regard to the events concerning Jackson and Briallen. There were those who felt Briallen had probably gotten what she deserved, or at least what was inevitable, given her choice of lover. There were Jackson's closest friends, including Brennen, who continued to snicker over comments about Briallen's boots. Finally, there were those closest to Briallen, who were utterly disgusted. The division made for several arguments during rehearsals, hushed only by the entrance of Kirkland or another member of management. Cast members often cut each other harsh glances or rolled their eyes because of overheard comments and otherwise found ways to disagree over the entire situation.

Briallen had been altogether horrified about being so exposed in gossip, until now. Now, she was lost in herself somewhere. She acknowledged no one. She went through each day alone, distant. She barely spoke to her friends, including Allie. And Allie was growing more and more concerned.

After more than a week of this behavior, Allie finally confronted her friend. On a Wednesday afternoon, when they were sitting at home before the show, she broached the subject.

"Bray," Allie began, turning off the television, "I…I'm really worried about you."

Briallen continued to stare at the television blankly.

"Briallen," Allie went on, "You can't just keep ignoring this. Believe me, I know you want to, but you have to do something. You have to…tell him."

Briallen finally looked at her friend. Her eyes were dark as she asked, "Why?"

Allie was taken aback, "Because…because it's his."

"Nothing is his," Briallen snapped.

Allie was quiet for a moment, and said, "I guess that's true. If that's what you want."

Briallen's tone was still very dark as she said, "None of this is about what I want. I don't _want_ any of this. This is about what I have to do."

Allie studied her friend, suddenly very concerned. Briallen's normally bright, blue eyes were stormy and tumultuous, and her face was a shade paler than it had ever been. Her waving, red hair was limp and probably unwashed. Briallen looked unkempt and on the verge of a very troubled place.

Finally, Allie asked, "What do you feel you have to do?"

"I have to get rid of it."

Allie froze, surprised at the strength of her reaction. She immediately started to speak, but caught herself. This wasn't her battle. This wasn't her decision, and she couldn't force her thoughts on her friend. Briallen was already struggling to bear the weight of her own troubles. She didn't need Allie muddling the waters. So she held her tongue.

After a moment, Allie simply asked, "Are you sure?"

Briallen nodded.

"Without even telling him?"

Briallen met Allie's eyes, "Do you think he deserves to be told? I don't think he deserves to have any further input regarding me, or my body."

"I guess not…" Allie whispered.

"I want rid of it," Briallen growled, "I want any remnant of him banished from my life."

Allie was startled by how her friend's lyrical accent made her words sound even harsher. It was unnerving to hear someone who was usually so light and sweet sound so desperate and angry. As much as Allie hated the nickname Brennen had given her friend, she had to admit that Briallen did seem to have a touch of Mary in her. The boots, fit, so to speak. But usually in a wonderfully perfect way. Now, however, Allie felt like she was seeing that unflappable confidence dissipate. She was watching her practically perfect friend unravel, like a magician stripped of her best-kept secrets.

Before Allie could say anything else, however, Briallen stood and left the room. After a moment, Allie heard the shower running. The conversation was clearly over.

* * *

In spite of what she'd said to Allie, however, Briallen spent another few days stewing on her decision. She had been enjoying the blissful numbness of denial. She wanted to keep moving through one day at a time, focusing only on doing the show she loved. She wanted to ignore this horrible situation until it disappeared. She knew, however, that that was an impossibility. A choice had to be made.

Sitting in her dressing room after the Sunday matinee, two weeks after discovering her pregnancy, Briallen stared at herself once again. She stared into her own eyes, trying to find the person she had been just a few months ago. She tried to find the person who'd been so excited to come to another country and have an adventure. She hunted for the young girl who was sure of herself, by herself, and who thought she was above the heavy-handed advances of most men.

Then, she looked for Mary Poppins, the character that she took such care in bringing to life. Briallen thought about Mary once again, this time much more darkly. She considered whether situations like this might be the reason Mary constantly rebuffed Bert. She wondered if Mary understood the less than noble intentions of most men and knew how one's heart could be ripped so thoroughly apart. Briallen wondered if Mary might've been hurt at some point, perhaps by letting sentiment muddle her thinking. She considered whether Mary's steely resolve and solid rebuttals with regard to showing genuine affection were a result of understanding how very badly the heart could be broken. In her own eyes, Briallen saw Mary again, this time wounded and scarred, and she found another layer of depth in the character. And it was easier, she realized, to transfer the pain to a fictional person. Imagining that Mary might have been hurt at some point made Briallen feel less like a fraud in her costume. She felt less like she was sullying the name of Mary Poppins by singing _Practically Perfect _while unintentionally pregnant. For the moment, at least, it felt less suffocating.

As would be the case, however, Briallen's moment of catharsis was interrupted by Jackson himself. She turned to see him standing in the doorway of her dressing room, staring at her. Briallen cut her eyes at him and then stood to gather her bag to leave.

"Briallen," he stopped her, "look, I think we need to call a truce or something."

"What?" she snapped.

Jackson sighed, "I get that you're mad at me. And I'm sorry that Brennen forwarded your video to the whole cast. I've apologized already. But, we have to keep doing the show. And right now, I think the whole cast is waiting for you to try to kill me onstage."

"How do you want me to behave, Jackson?" Briallen asked tightly.

"Maybe we could just…move on? We had a fun fling. Can't that just be the end of it?"

Briallen's eyes flashed, "Once again, only one of us knew it was a _fling_!"

Jackson sighed again, "I didn't know you were the type to fall in love with the first person you slept with in America. I thought you enjoyed the fact that it was just about sex."

"If you had spent even _one minute_ listening to me, you would have realized how very much it was _not_ just about sex!" Briallen retorted, "I talked to you. I told you _everything_ about myself!"

"All girls do that," Jackson stated flatly.

Briallen felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, again.

After a moment, Jackson went on, "I just think we need to take the gossip down a few notches by acting civil. I think Kirkland has noticed, or heard, and eventually Stuart…"

Briallen's eyes flashed as she looked at him, "So you're worried about your job?"

"Aren't you?" Jackson challenged.

"I'm _doing_ my job, Jackson! And I will continue doing it. I will smile and dance and act like you're my favorite person in the world! Onstage. That should be enough for Stuart."

Jackson stared at her, "But don't you think we should lessen the hostility? It would make everything easier."

"I'm _terribly_ sorry if this isn't _easy_ for you," Briallen spat.

Jackson ran a hand through his dark hair, and argued, "Briallen, you're going back to Wales at the end of your run. Can you honestly tell me you thought you were starting a long-term relationship with me? Did you really spend a lot of time thinking that through?"

She turned away, angry, because he was, for once, somewhat correct.

"You acted on impulse, on your feelings, because it was fun. It was about the moment. Why can't we let it just be that?"

Briallen looked back at him, and said, "Because it became more than that. And because _you_ weren't caught up in the moment. You deliberately seduced me. For sport."

Jackson stared at her, hard, and said, "You used me too. You used me to satisfy a desire for something you've never had, without ever thinking if we made any sense, together."

Briallen faced him, and said, "Maybe. I acted carelessly, stupidly, even. But I did not act with the intent to hurt you!"

"We could do this all day," Jackson stated.

"We could," Briallen agreed bitterly.

There was a pause, and Jackson asked, "Are we going to make it through the rest of this run? For six months?"

Briallen felt something hitch within her, and she looked away. Tears pricked her eyes, and she fought them back.

"Can we just be professionals and kill the gossip?" Jackson demanded impatiently.

Looking back at him, Briallen said, "You can't undo this, Jackson. You can't turn on the charm and ignore it."

Frustrated, Jackson asked, "Why Briallen? Do you _want_ to get fired? I can't fall in love with you. I'm sorry I'm not that guy. I'm sorry you're so damn complicated that you can't just have fun! Why do you want to make the next six months miserable?"

In spite of herself, and in a burst of uncontrolled emotion, Briallen replied, "Because you've done more than break my heart, Jackson! You've not only hurt me and humiliated me, but you have ruined this show for me! Because I'm pregnant!"

There was a long, very tangible silence. Briallen dropped into her chair and furiously wiped away the tears that fell. Jackson looked at her, utterly shocked. After a moment, however, his expression faded into annoyance.

Quietly, he asked, "And you're sure it's mine?"

Briallen fixed him with a look of angry disbelief, "_Of course_ it's yours!"

"How do I know?" Jackson challenged.

Standing to her feet again, Briallen cleared her throat. Stepping just close enough to show how very serious she was, she said, "You don't have to know. I have nothing to prove to you, and I do not intend to let this ruin my career! I came here to do this show. I love this part, and I'm very good at it. I'm Mary bloody Poppins and no one will take that from me! I can get rid of this and go on with my life! And I suppose if you want to tell the whole bloody cast, there's nothing I can do about it! But I will keep doing what I do every night! The audiences will continue to love me, and that, Jackson Devereaux, is what will matter to Stuart!"

Jackson stared at her, shocked and angry, and stated, "Fine. Do whatever you want! I was just trying to calm the drama around here. Clearly, that doesn't work for you."

"I didn't _start_ the drama!" Briallen snapped.

"Sure. I _forced_ you," Jackson said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Then, as he turned to leave, he added, "Maybe you need a new nickname, Poppins, because I'm pretty sure Mary is smart enough _not_ to get pregnant."

He walked away, then, slamming the door shut behind himself. In a rush of anger, Briallen hurled one of the knick-knacks off her dressing table at the closed door. As it shattered and fell, she felt her façade crumble. The tears fell, and Briallen hated herself for it. She hated him, as well. She hated the fact that she'd told him her secret and hated it more that he hadn't even seemed fazed by it. She hated this thing inside of her. She wanted rid of it, rid of him, and rid of every trace of his intrusion into her life. Briallen trembled with the intensity of the revulsion she felt and violently wiped the tears away.

* * *

The following morning, Briallen was incredibly glad to have the day off. The rest of the previous day had been spent trying to keep herself together during the second show. After her conversation with Jackson, she'd been understandably shaken. It was exhausting, putting on a front for performances, and so she was glad for a break. She was glad to have a day to regroup and to consider how she would handle Jackson revealing her secret.

Briallen lived for Mondays, now. And, as was becoming a habit, she was still sitting on the couch in her pajamas at noon. Today, she was flipping through her scrapbook, of sorts. It was really just a binder where she'd started sticking pictures, articles, press releases, and other mementos of her journey as Mary Poppins. In the front, she had her boarding passes from the flights to Atlanta. She had the official email offering her the part and a card of congratulations from her parents. Toward the back, she had the series of articles that the _Journal_ had done over the past few months. The last one was from three weeks previous and had served as a conclusion to the entire series.

Briallen remembered how she'd enjoyed reading the article when it had come out. It featured a picture of her and Jackson, arm in arm, dancing _Jolly Holiday._ Jamie had written:

_Briallen Griffith is the picture of strength and grace. She is poised, refined, and a bit prickly. Yet she leaves the audience spellbound, as only Mary Poppins can. _

A few lines later, the article read:

_Alongside Mary, Bert is sweet, scrappy and wiser than he lets on. True to the character we all know and love, Jackson Devereaux tap dances his way into our hearts. _

Briallen looked at the photo again, noticing the way her eyes were trained on Jackson. She knew the smile on her face was about more than acting. She had been head over heels for him, in that moment. She had been senseless, and the photographer had forever captured it. Now, however, it made Briallen want to vomit. Remembering how strongly she had felt, how carelessly she'd behaved, she wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She felt herself reel through the spectrum of feelings once again. It was a circuit of emotion that continued in an exhausting pattern.

Briallen was so caught up in her struggle that Allie startled her when she sat down on the couch. Briallen glanced up from her scrapbook and looked at her friend blankly. Allie stared back at her, sympathetically.

"I didn't know you saved all of those," Allie stated quietly.

Briallen nodded, "Yes. I've never had so much press coverage dedicated to me before."

Allie smiled slightly, "You deserve it, Bray."

Briallen made a low noise in her throat, "I doubt most people would agree with that, if they knew…"

She didn't finish, so Allie cut in with, "Stop it. You're only human. All of us make mistakes."

"This is more than your average mistake," Briallen argued.

Allie still looked sympathetic. She paused for a moment, and then asked, "Do you know…what you'll do?"

"I told you," Briallen snapped, "I'm getting rid of it."

Softly, Allie asked, "When?"

"As soon as I can request a day or two off."

Allie took a breath, "You might want more than a day or two…"

"I just want to be back on stage," Briallen stated.

"I know," Allie agreed, "But you'll be in some pain, and…"

"I figured that," Briallen cut in.

Allie sighed, "I just think you might need a little more time. It's a lot to…handle."

Briallen looked into her roommate's eyes and suddenly came to a realization. Forgetting her own problem for a moment, she asked, "Are you telling me this from experience?"

Allie was very quiet for a moment. She looked back at Briallen with intense, troubled eyes. Her usually soft features were pinched with strain and she looked older, more like the mother she played than a single, young woman.

After a time, Allie said, "I was just twenty-three, Bray. I was young, just out of school, and dancing as hard as I could in every ensemble or swing role I could get. I was partying hard and late, and working my way through every guy that would have me. You know my story. You know my struggles. But, this one…I really never expected to tell you this."

"I know," Briallen laughed harshly, "You asked me to be your roommate, not your project. You wanted someone to share the rent and I've pulled you into my nightmare. You wanted company, and you got this…travesty."

"Bray," Allie looked at her intently, "I'm not afraid of this friendship. I'm not afraid because…I've been a travesty myself. It's just hard to share it. To share this."

There was an awkward silence.

"As I said," Allie went on, "I was twenty-three. And…I got pregnant. I couldn't even say whose it was. I was irresponsible and arrogant. I knew I wasn't ready for a baby, and I just didn't want to deal with it. So I got rid of it. I recovered from the physical pain and the somewhat dirty feeling the whole experience gave me, and I moved on. In fact, I probably cared even less. I was living for me, and whatever made me happy for the moment."

Allie took a deep breath, as though she were trying to figure out how to proceed.

Briallen cut in, "I'm sure it was hard, Allie, but I realize that. This whole situation is hard. But I have no other choice."

Allie looked at Briallen intently, and then went on, "It wasn't until a few years later, after I'd met Sam and calmed down, that the gravity of it all occurred to me. I'd never told anyone, never felt the need to confess it or confront it. But then, my older sister started trying to get pregnant. She and her husband wanted a baby terribly. She had four miscarriages in a year and a half, all before twelve weeks of pregnancy. And I watched her go through each one. I went with her to the ultrasounds, and saw them. I saw the hands and feet, and the fluttering heartbeats. I saw them move. I heard the swooshing of their hearts, all at less than twelve weeks. When they were the size of a peanut. And when each of the miscarriages happened, I watched my sister mourn their loss. I watched her grieve, and her pain was not lessened because her baby was not 'viable'. She hurt the same as if she'd held him or her in her arms. And I realized what I had done. I realized that what I hadn't wanted, someone else was desperately hoping for. I realized, I would rather have lived with the inconvenience of pregnancy, with the disruption of birth, than with having willing stilled one of those heartbeats. Even if I was in no position to raise a child, it was a life, and a life that someone would cherish. I realized that taking the easy way out of a struggle, out of a hardship, is not necessarily the road to happiness. It's usually just the road to emptiness."

Allie looked at her hands for a moment, and then added, "Bray, I would rather have handed that baby over to a childless mother than live with knowing I never gave it a chance. My sister showed me, life is in the potential. There is instinctive value in just the potential for life. This thing you're carrying, its heart is beating, Bray."

Briallen looked at her friend, skeptical, and said darkly, "It's still my choice, Allie."

"I know," Allie agreed, "you have the right of the choice. I'm not trying to have a moral argument with you. I'm just telling you what it's like…to live with the choice."

Briallen stared back at her friend, now horribly torn.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Briallen tried to make an appointment for an abortion nearly every day. She would pick up the phone, stare at the numbers she'd printed out, and never dial. She silently screamed at herself. She warred with her inability to do what she'd thought she wanted. She told herself that this was her only way out without having to show the world her mistake. She told herself that her family and her friends at home would be devastated by her irresponsibility if they found out. She fought back tears when she thought about being dismissed from her role in the show. Briallen tried to make the phone call. She screwed up her courage and clutched the phone, over and over. And still, she couldn't.

She knew that Allie did not share things haphazardly. She wasn't flippant with stories about her life, and it had clearly taken a lot for her to confess what she'd been through. And in her friend's eyes, Briallen could see the regret. She could see the struggle that her friend lived with. Whether it made sense, whether logic agreed with the emotions or not, Allie was clearly wounded by her decision. As badly as Briallen wanted to be rid of this thing she felt was invading her life, she couldn't make herself dial.

So she let the days slip by into weeks. Allie would give her concerned glances, offering the chance to talk further. Briallen stayed quiet, however. She pulled into herself more and more, and the rest of the cast grew tired of gossiping. Most assumed she planned to give Jackson the cold shoulder until her run was up. Whether they agreed or not, other things gradually became more gossip-worthy. As for Briallen's closest friends, they continued to go out together. They tried to re-involve her in their lives. Briallen knew she was different, though. She knew she was seeing the world differently, through jaded eyes.

In spite of herself, Briallen was also still bothered by Jackson. As much as she wanted not to care, as much as she wanted to say she was through with him, she couldn't help but notice how he disregarded her. He had said nothing about her pregnancy, not to the cast, or Kirkland, or Stuart. She assumed it was out of fear for his job, or of more gossip, or perhaps because he simply didn't care. He didn't see her situation as his problem in any way. Briallen was afraid that that was most likely the case. When they were onstage, he was attentive and charming, whirling and spinning her as though she were his world. Offstage, however, he barely looked at her. There were no concerned glances or worried stares. Jackson simply didn't care, and that left Briallen feeling the most empty, the most used and discarded.

As the weeks passed and summer fully took hold on the Atlanta area, she also made another realization. Except for occasionally making her push away a plate of food or slip into an afternoon nap while reading, the pregnancy was having very little effect on her. Were it not for the offensive plus sign Briallen was greeted with on every pregnancy test, she could almost convince herself this intruder did not exist in her life. And with that realization, an idea began to form.

Briallen began to wonder if she could simply ignore it. Every day, as she managed to fit into her clothes and tap dance her way through the show, she wondered how long it would be before her pregnancy really showed itself. Curled in her bed, Briallen read all that she could on the internet with regard to pregnancy. She counted the weeks until her run with the show was over. And out of that, she decided to do nothing. She would tell no one, reveal nothing, and make it to the end of the run. She would take her last bow as Mary Poppins on October the eleventh, as planned. Then, she could return to Wales and bear her child in private. She would face her family, and undoubtedly their disapproval, and give the child over to someone who wanted the thing. It might be an entirely ludicrous plan, but Briallen didn't care. She didn't care if it made sense, or even if it was possible. She simply crumpled the paper with the printed phone numbers and let time slip by. She buried her secret as deep as her shame. Like Mary Poppins and her magic, she pretended the entire thing, the very situation itself, did not exist. She put her chin in the air, and pressed on.


	11. Chapter 11: Homesick

**Chapter 11: Homesick**

Perhaps the one thing that could completely distract Briallen from her internal struggle was the severity of the southern American summer. The air hung thick and heavy over the city, prompting the residents to retreat inside or seek refuge in the nearest pool. It was more than just heat or sun, it was an oppressive season that was unheard of in Wales or London. Allie teased Briallen, in good moments, that she would be the first Brit to sport a Georgia tan. Briallen tried to laugh and was suddenly appreciative of the air conditioning.

In mid-July, when the weather was at its most sweltering, Kayla, Wren and a few others invited Allie and Briallen to the lake. It was something they'd been talking about for weeks, and they'd all finally had enough of the heat to feel the drive was worth it.

"It'll be fun," Laurie had said, "We'll go swimming and get some sun."

Now, on Sunday evening, Briallen was considering whether she should go. She'd never been afraid of her bathing suit before, but, now, she was hesitant. Standing in her room, she pulled on her two-piece and studied herself in the full length mirror behind her door. Briallen had always been cute, if not beautiful, and she'd never been particularly afraid of showing her body. Certainly, the climate in Wales didn't lend itself to showing skin as much as Atlanta did, but she'd always enjoyed the shore in the summer. Now, she studied every inch of her body.

Briallen was small-framed, with just enough curves to fill out her bathing suit. She was ivory-skinned, with a smattering of freckles across her shoulders, if only to serve as proof that her red hair was natural. These were the things she was used to seeing. Tonight, however, she studied her stomach. It was flat, not betraying her secret. Still, she worried.

A few minutes later, Allie stuck her head in the door. Seeing what Briallen was doing, she softly asked, "How many weeks are you, now?"

"Eleven," Briallen stated flatly.

There was a long pause while Briallen continued to stare at herself.

"You know," Allie said softly, "at some point, you're going to have to do something, or say something, to someone."

Briallen finally looked at her friend and replied, "No, I don't."

Allie looked confused.

"I won't let this thing ruin my run here. I came too far, and worked too hard, to leave now, like this," Briallen said forcefully.

"Bray, you can't hide this forever."

"I don't have to hide it forever. I just have to hide it until I take my last bow."

"Briallen," Allie took her roommate's hands this time, "you wear a harness. You run, you dance, you do lifts. You _fly._ Three times per show."

"I'll make it work."

"But…"

"Look," Briallen stated, "I can't make myself get rid of it, but I won't let it take this show from me. I won't let _him_ take anything else from me, either."

Allie took a pause, and then said, "It's not a thing, Bray. It's a baby."

Briallen scoffed, "Perhaps, to someone who wants it."

Allie stepped back and studied her friend, saying, "Don't you think Jackson should at least know? Maybe there's a chance of him…stepping up?"

Briallen's expression grew hard, and she replied, "He knows."

Allie looked shocked.

"He knows. He's known for a month, now."

"What did he say?" Allie asked, very softly.

"He doesn't care," Briallen spat, "He's not angry. He's not afraid or telling me what to do. He just doesn't care."

Allie was silent, then, shocked by Jackson's continued ability to be heartless and self-involved. Briallen looked herself over again, deciding she would go swimming.

* * *

At the beginning of August, after struggling through a few more weeks, Briallen had a scheduled week off from the show. She'd planned to go home for the first time in months. She had been looking forward to the trip for some time, wanting to see her parents and her friends again. She loved her job, loved the adventure, but she missed home, sometimes. Now, however, she was torn about the entire trip. She couldn't cancel, because she had no excuse that was good enough for her parents. She knew they would be terribly disappointed and a touch angry if she didn't come. Still, she was afraid.

Briallen was afraid they would be able to tell something was wrong, that she was different, somehow. She was afraid her mother would guess her secret. She was afraid her brothers would find out and want to kill Jackson, literally. She was going on fourteen weeks pregnant, now, though there was still not much change, physically.

It amazed her, daily, how something could be growing within her, taking over her body, and yet not show itself. It was perplexing, and yet good, as far as Briallen was concerned. She wanted as little intrusion as possible. She wanted to make it to October playing the part she loved. So she packed her things, said goodbye to her friends, and flew back to Wales on August the second.

From the moment she stepped out of the car after the drive from London to Cardiff, Briallen felt the unmistakable comfort of home. The sights, the smells, even just the sound of lots of people speaking the way she did, made her feel warm and full. She hadn't realized how homesick she'd been, how lonely and conflicted she was, until now.

Paying the driver, Briallen ascended the steps to the walk-up flat she called home. Opening the door, she caught the scent of her mother's cooking. And in an instant, her mother was there. Lucinda wrapped Briallen in a hug, smelling like flour and fresh soap. Briallen dropped her things and hugged her back. As they held each other, Briallen realized she was fighting back tears. She realized the full weight of what she was carrying, what she was hiding, in her mother's arms. Unable to stop them, she felt a few tears fall.

Wiping them away, Briallen covered the truth with, "I suppose I've missed you terribly."

With a soft smile, her mother said, "I've missed you, too. We all have," she looked her daughter over, "You look different. You look…tired."

Briallen tried to smile, "I am tired."

"Well, it's not surprising, with the time change and all," Lucinda stated, "Go on, put your things in your room before we eat."

Relieved, Briallen went upstairs to store her things for the week. In her room, the room that had been hers since childhood, she stored her bags and then sat down on her bed. Looking around at the items she cherished most, Briallen felt an incredible wave of homesickness. It made no sense, she knew, because she was here among the things and people she loved. She realized, however, that what she was longing for was the innocence this room represented. She wished, for a moment, that she could be the hopeful girl she'd been at eighteen, ready to leave for school, to chase her dreams. Briallen felt like a jaded version of that girl, sitting on her quilt with the eyelet lace. She felt like all the things on her walls, her commencement certificates, her first showbills, her press photos and her scrapbooks, they all seemed to mock her, to point to her moral and physical failure.

So, if only to escape the suffocating pressure of her own conscience, Briallen washed up and headed downstairs for dinner. She joined her parents and her brothers and tried to simply enjoy the comfort of home.

And for the next few days, Briallen let herself fall into the rhythms of the places and people she knew best. She helped her parents at the restaurant and visited with old friends. She enjoyed the cooler, dryer weather and took a drive down to the shore. She went out on her brother Richard's fishing boat, and she talked with Lewis about his plans to take over the family restaurant, someday.

Briallen also went shopping with her mother, enjoying the quaint and quirky shops in the downtown area of their Cardiff suburb. They had tea together at a familiar place, sitting out in the hazy sunshine. They talked, catching up on the past nine months. Briallen told Lucinda all about the show, covering both the best moments, the hard moments, and the funny moments. She talked about Allie and how glad she was to have made such a close friend. She talked about Atlanta, describing both the good things and the hard things about being in a foreign place. They laughed over Briallen's description of the never-ending reactions to her accent.

"Honestly," Briallen said with a smile, "I believe I could say just about anything, and they would thank me for it. I could tell them to bugger off, and they would smile."

Lucinda chuckled.

"But it's a compliment, really," Briallen conceded.

They laughed, and kept chatting.

Still, Briallen couldn't help feeling like a fraud. As she listened to her mum talking about new recipes she'd tried and how Richard had been seeing a girl, Kate, for some time now, she felt the weight of her secret. She felt how tight her jeans had become. She was aware of how the sweet, fruit jam was too much for her altered palette. Briallen pursed her lips, however, and kept quiet. Even from her mother, she kept her secret.

* * *

The next evening, when Briallen arrived home from a visit to her Granny's cottage north of the city, she was in better spirits. Granny Llewellyn had always had a way of soothing her, of making problems seem less daunting even without directly addressing them. Perhaps it was her more simple way of living, the way she drew peace and strength from the rolling country and the animals she still kept. Whatever it was, Briallen felt better after feeding goats and drinking warm tea.

When she came in the door at home, she was tired, but less troubled. She stopped short, however, when she recognized a figure in the living room. Shocked, Briallen said, "Charlie?"

Her ex-boyfriend turned and his face lit up in a smile. Standing, he reached for her hand, saying, "Briallen, it's wonderful to see you."

Lucinda appeared then, grinning, "Briallen, I'm glad you're home. Your father ran into Charlie at the docks this morning, and so we invited him for dinner. I hope you don't mind, but it's been so long since we've seen him."

Briallen caught the hint of wistfulness in her mother's voice. She knew that, in Charlie, Lucinda saw the potential to have her daughter home, to have grandchildren. Charlie was safe, comfortable, and he made sense to Lucinda. At one time, he'd made sense to Briallen, too. Now, however, she'd never felt more distanced from her ex-boyfriend.

They had dinner in peace, however. Richard talked fishing with Charlie, and it felt very much like old times. There were moments when Briallen could almost convince herself she was in school again. It was nice, and yet it was predictable. It was a reminder of all the reasons she and Charlie had broken up. Yet, in her parents' faces, Briallen could see how much they loved him. She could see how badly they wanted him in their family, and how they hoped that seeing Charlie on this trip would make her want to come home and marry him.

Briallen said nothing, however. She smiled and offered to do the dishes while her mother went back to the restaurant to do some prep work.

Lucinda brushed her off, saying, "No, no. Why don't you and Charlie take a walk? It's been years, after all."

Biting her tongue, Briallen nodded. With a tight smile, she followed Charlie out of the flat. They walked down the streets for a while in silence, enjoying the dusty rose of the sunset. Following the winding streets to a tiny park where they all used to play hide and seek as children, they sat down on one of the benches.

Then, Charlie said, "I've missed you."

"It's been a long time," Briallen agreed.

Charlie looked at her, his soft, gray eyes trying to decipher her feelings. He pushed his shock of light brown hair back and smiled his crooked smile. Carefully, he asked, "Do you ever think about me? About us?"

Taking a breath, Briallen answered, "I don't think about anyone, right now. I'm performing in the states. That's my focus, now."

Charlie nodded, looking a little deflated. Still, he said, "I thought we were good together."

Briallen nodded, "We did…make sense."

Carefully, Charlie said, "Sometimes, I think we should have given each other more of a chance."

"We were young, Charlie," Briallen said softly, "We didn't know what we wanted."

He grew serious, "I believe, I might have a better idea now…of what I want."

Charlie looked at her, his eyes soft and kind. He was transparent, as he always had been. He didn't play games or mince words. Charlie was a simple person. He was smart, educated, and hard working, but he had simple goals. He was comfortable, like home, and he would never deceive her. So, when he leaned in and kissed her, Briallen let him. She let herself sink into him, and it was as if no time had passed.

As they kissed, Briallen felt something that turned her stomach. As gentle, kind, and attentive as Charlie could be, her only thought was of Jackson. For a fleeting second, she realized she longed for Jackson's touch. For the briefest moment, Briallen wanted to feel the way he'd made her feel, and she knew that Charlie would never be able to do that. She was jaded by the power of what she'd had with Jackson.

Pulling away, it made her angry. Charlie was so nice, so sweet and so grounded in good things. He would take care of her. Still, Jackson had ruined her. He'd tainted her in so many ways, and Briallen felt the anger flare up and fill her.

Sensing her negative reaction, Charlie asked, "Was that too forward?"

Trying to smile, Briallen said, "No, Charlie. I just…I can't commit to you right now. I do care for you, but, it can't be. We can't be right now."

He gave her a hopeful smile, "Then, perhaps…someday?"

"I can't make you any promises, Charlie. I'm sorry."

He smiled, but his eyes were sad.

Briallen looked at him, "Right now, I have a show to do. And you have work that you love. We simply don't make as much sense as we used to."

Charlie studied her, and then asked, "Is there someone else? Someone in the states?"

Briallen looked away and couldn't immediately argue.

* * *

The rest of the week was less peaceful, as Briallen now had to dodge her mother's thinly veiled inquiries about her and Charlie. It was starting to be too much, and Briallen felt like she was in a room that was slowly closing in on her. She felt like she was existing under a microscope, as though she was one moment away from being revealed as a slag and a liar. She could offer no good argument for why she wouldn't at least consider Charlie, and she knew that hurt her mother.

So, in light of her feelings, Briallen was relieved to return to Atlanta. She was relieved to see the skyline out the window of the airplane. She was relieved to be back at her tiny apartment, knowing that Allie was there. She was glad to have a friend, to have one person in the world who understood what she was going through. As glad as she'd been to go home, she was now glad not to be hiding in her own home. It was a conflicting emotion, because it seemed there was a measure of homesickness no matter where she landed.

In the apartment, Briallen dropped her bags in her bedroom. Then, she joined Allie for pizza and they caught up on things. Surprisingly, Allie seemed distracted, or worried, and Briallen wondered why. She studied her roommate, curious.

Finally, Briallen asked, "What's troubling you? You seem…upset."

Allie sighed and sat back on the couch. Rubbing her eyes, she said, "We got a new swing the day you left."

"I know," Briallen said cautiously, "I knew we were."

Allie met her eyes, and said, "Jackson's sleeping with her, Bray. Her name is Katie, and she made sure everyone knows about them."

Briallen sat down, nauseous.

"From what I've seen, she's almost as bad as him. I'd call her a tramp, if it didn't make me sound so old," Allie said softly.

Briallen was quiet, studying the floor. She knew she shouldn't care. She hated him. She'd wished him gone on so many occasions. Still, for some reason, her emotions betrayed her. Something rose up inside of her. Briallen felt horribly alone, pregnant, and betrayed again. Since there were no words, she seized the first thing at hand, a stack of coasters, and hurled them across the room. Allie said nothing, not surprised or deterred. Then they sat there together, silent once again.


	12. Chapter 12: Flight

**All right...as promised, here's the next chapter. I really hope to hear your thoughts. Hopefully, I've given you something to think about. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Flight**

Over the course of the next week, Briallen felt like her spirit was pushed to its breaking point. Logically, she knew she shouldn't care what Jackson did. She was genuinely, thoroughly angry with him. What he had done disgusted her, and she didn't feel that she was harboring any hidden desire to actually be with him. Granted, she was frustrated that he seemed to be the only man who made her feel fulfilled, sexually. It made her feel like something might be terribly wrong with her. She wondered if she had some sort of self-destructive desire for losers that she'd failed to discover until now. She did not want a relationship with Jackson, though. She wanted him out of her life. For some reason, however, it made her sick to see him with someone else.

Katie was everything Allie had made her out to be. She was tall, ash blonde and hazel-eyed. She wasn't silly or naïve, as far as Briallen could see. She worked hard in rehearsals, and she moved with an easy confidence that hinted she would not be a swing for long. She would go far, and quickly, and that had to be appealing to Jackson. Much the same way he'd been attracted to the challenge of seducing Briallen, he seemed to be drawn to Katie's independent strength. And she had clearly been willing to accommodate him.

They flirted openly in rehearsals and during shows. Wren explained, with a measure of disgust, that Katie talked openly about her sexual exploits with Jackson. When Kayla had dared to ask if they were beginning a relationship, Katie had laughed. Then, somewhat condescendingly, she'd explained that her career was too important for something serious. Hearing that, Briallen had felt sick to her stomach.

In spite of herself, in spite of what logic told her, Briallen felt like a failure. She felt like yesterday's rubbish or a used pair of shoes, damaged beyond repair. She felt dirty, insufficient, and broken. And she felt fat. It was the first major, physical change she'd finally noticed. She didn't look pregnant. She just looked like she'd gained a few pounds. It was a perfectly humiliating situation to be in, compounded by the fact that some of the cast members had noticed and were starting to snicker over Briallen's appearance.

Inevitably, Kirkland, and therefore Stuart, took notice. Roughly two weeks after she returned from her trip, when August was at its most sweltering, Stuart called Briallen into his office. It was a Wednesday morning when she went to meet him, and the theater was empty and quiet. She entered the stage door with great trepidation and took deep, calming breaths as she walked the halls to Stuart's office. Briallen ran over in her head what she might say, depending on what he might ask. She was terrified that he'd guessed her secret and that he planned to send her home. So she began to prepare her argument for staying.

Briallen was nearly trembling when she finally sat down in Stuart's office. He looked at her across his desk, studying her with his friendly brown eyes. Stuart was pushing fifty, with thinning, silver hair and a lot of laugh lines. He was kind, soft-spoken, and yet meticulously organized. He took good care of the cast and won them over by showing a genuine consideration for their well-being. Perhaps because of that, he was also not afraid to address personal matters. As company manager, he felt like their lives outside of the show could directly affect the show. It was nice, generally, to feel that someone cared. Now, however, Briallen was terrified.

After a few minutes, Stuart said, "I appreciate you meeting with me."

Briallen nodded, smiling slightly.

Stuart took a breath, "I wanted to see you, Briallen, because I'm concerned."

She looked at her hands.

"I understand your relationship with Jackson did not end well?" he asked.

Briallen swallowed hard, "No, it did not. But I have still been giving the show my best."

"I know that," Stuart agreed, "Otherwise, I would have spoken with you much sooner."

"Is there something I need to improve?" she asked softly.

Stuart shook his head, "No. Not especially. You're a consummate performer, Briallen. But, you seem to be struggling. Kirkland has said you seem depressed. Please don't take offense, but it concerns me that no one has seen a genuine smile from you in months."

Briallen paused, and then said, "Perhaps you were right. I should have kept my relationship with Jackson platonic. It has been hard, but it's a lesson learned."

"I can appreciate that," Stuart said, "But Carol has noticed that your costumes don't seem to be fitting quite as well. They may need to be altered."

Briallen felt a wave of panic, and said nothing.

"I think I understand what's going on," Stuart said carefully.

"You do?" Briallen whispered. She sat there, absolutely paralyzed with fear.

Stuart drew a breath, "You're a little depressed, and you've stopped taking care of yourself the way you used to. You're letting Jackson continue to hurt you by sitting at home and eating. You're drowning it all in food."

Briallen felt her shoulders drop in relief when he didn't broach the subject of pregnancy.

Still studying her, Stuart went on, "Please don't think I expect you not to eat, or that you need to change your body for this part. You're tiny, Briallen, and we can alter costumes. To a certain extent, I understand that everyone's weight fluctuates. This isn't about how I want you to look. This is about you. When someone who has always been athletic, energetic, and confident suddenly gains ten pounds and looks miserable, I worry. I don't worry about letting out some seams. I worry that you've stopped caring about yourself. Do you understand?"

Briallen nodded, finding that she did appreciate his concern.

After another long pause, Stuart said, "Briallen, if being in this cast is genuinely causing you distress, if the tension is that bad, we can let you go. I'll talk with the higher powers about releasing you from your contract with my blessing. I don't want to, and I am disappointed, but I would do it. I think you've learned a lesson about becoming involved with cast members, anyway."

Briallen looked at him, shaking her head, and said, "No. You're right, I've learned a lesson. But I want to finish this. I am not a quitter. And I can lose ten pounds."

Stuart looked at her, "Okay. But I don't want you to focus on the weight. I want you to let this whole thing with Jackson go. Learn from it, and stop dwelling on it. Do the things you love outside the theater. And enjoy the shows again. I think your body will take care of itself, if you do that."

Briallen smiled, grateful that Stuart was such a genuinely good person. She also felt relief that her secret was safe. She knew, because of his nature, that he would not let her keeping performing pregnant. Stuart wanted his actors to take care of themselves, and he prided himself on keeping everyone safe. He would work to have her dismissed, if he knew, and she didn't want a dismissal, even an amicable one. So she thanked him for his concern and stood to leave. Stuart gave her another smile and asked her to go see Susie in costuming before she left.

"She'll make sure everything is comfortable, for you," Stuart added.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Briallen headed to the costume shop anyway. There, she drew a deep breath and let Susie measure her. She suffered the humiliation of realizing her waist was at least a couple inches bigger than it had always been. Still, it wasn't beautiful and round, as she'd always imagined a pregnant belly would be. She just looked heavier, and Briallen struggled not to cry about it. She bit her lip and, mercifully, Susie said nothing. She made notes and planned to have the most fitted parts of the costumes altered by the weekend. Briallen nodded and then went home to sulk, without the catharsis of ice cream.

* * *

One week later, on yet another oppressive Wednesday afternoon, the cast was finishing up their weekly rehearsal. Briallen was at her breaking point for the day. Jackson had spent the entire rehearsal staring at Katie over Briallen's shoulder, and Katie had spent her free time whispering with Kelly and Melissa. The topic of their whispering was clearly Briallen, and it was incredibly obvious that they were enjoying her distress. Perhaps they felt some sort of power in humiliating their leading actress, or perhaps they were simply just mean. Briallen wasn't sure, and she also wasn't sure she cared. She just wanted to go home. She quickly stuffed her rehearsal boots, her character shoes and her rehearsal skirt into her bag and stood to leave.

Allie followed her, asking, "I think we're going to get something to eat. Wanna go?"

"Who?" Briallen asked distantly.

"Umm…me, Kayla, Wren, probably Laurie, and Joey asked if he could come. And possibly Darren," Allie explained. Darren was a dynamic actor who played Mr. Banks across from Allie, and Joey alternated between dancing and playing Northbrook, a banking customer.

They were all people Briallen called friends, but she shook her head. She was feeling tired and frustrated from rehearsal, and a touch nauseous. Giving Allie a tiny smile, she said, "You go on. I'll eat at home…maybe."

Allie gave her a serious look, "Please don't stop eating on top of everything else, Bray. You're not going to lose this type of weight…"

"I know," Briallen almost whispered. Then she turned and started the hot, sunny walk home.

A couple hours later, when Allie came through the door at home, she found Briallen on the couch. She was staring at her laptop morosely with a mix of old power ballads playing through her iPod radio. In the moment, _Journey _was filling the room. Briallen sat very still, with a quilt wrapped around her body.

"Bray," Allie stated, "It's August. Are you cold?"

Briallen looked startled in spite of the fact that her roommate had made the usual amount of noise coming through the door. Turning to face Allie, she said, "Yes. No. I was…"

Trying to lighten the mood, Allie said, "Like eighties bands, much?"

Briallen didn't look up, saying, "Yes, I do."

Crossing to the chair, Allie asked, "What are you doing?"

"Reading a message from my mum," Briallen stated flatly.

"And?"

Briallen handed her the computer rather than explaining. Allie was a touch worried as she began to read. After the usual pleasantries and concerns, Lucinda wrote:

…_I just don't understand why you so flatly turned Charlie down. I'm sorry to keep pressing the issue, but he very much cares for you. He would take such good care of you, and he would never stop you from pursuing your career. He seemed so heartbroken when he left that night. Briallen Rose…I'm afraid that this trip has changed you. I'm afraid you're forgetting where you came from, and this place that raised you. I'm afraid you're carrying on with boys over there in a lifestyle that runs against how you were brought up. I know you're an adult, but I'd hoped you would stay true to yourself in spite of where you go or who you work with. When we saw you, you seemed so distant, so sad or angry. You seemed to push us away, You just seem…different…_

A few paragraphs later, the message ended:

_We love you, Briallen. We want you to be happy, but we sometimes don't understand you and what you're looking for. Perhaps it's simply a matter of you being so very different from your brothers. We are simple people, but you've been restless to fly since birth. I just hope you won't run away forever. I hope you'll stay in touch with Charlie, and remember that you are a Welshie, always. _

_Much love, and I am still trying to convince your father to come see you in October._

_Mum._

When she finished reading, Allie set the computer down on the coffee table. With a sigh, she looked at Briallen. She understood how her friend was struggling with the weight of her secret, compounded now by her mother's concern.

Quietly, Briallen said, "I knew I couldn't hide everything from her. She doesn't know, but she knows me. She knows something is….off."

"Mothers are like that," Allie agreed.

Briallen looked at her fingers, "I hate lying to her. I've always told her everything, or most everything. There have always been some personal things that were hard for us to talk about, but I've never deceived her. And what's worse is, I know it won't make things better when she finds out. It will crush her."

Allie just listened, not wanting to offer empty words of comfort.

"Stuart had Susie let out all my costumes," Briallen went on, "because I'm too fat for them. And I know Kelly has noticed. She and her new 'best friend' Katie are talking about me, I know. And Jackson doesn't care. He doesn't even look in my eyes, unless we're on stage. When we perform, I know he wishes he was with someone else. He doesn't care if I got rid of the baby or not. He's never asked. I'm just an inconvenience for him. I just, I mean some days, I want…"

Briallen struggled and twisted her hands around each other. There was a quiet moment when neither spoke, and the iPod selected another song. After a second, _Bed of Roses _began to play. Briallen looked frozen, then sick, and then she put her face in her hands and cried. Her shoulders shook and she sobbed with everything in her.

Allie moved over to the couch and put her arms around her friend. She said nothing, but held Briallen as she purged all the pent up feelings. Allie could imagine that the weight of what she was dealing with, of having to constantly be slapped in the face with Jackson's selfishness, was suffocating Briallen. She was trying to bottle it up and put on a smile, and it was clearly becoming too much.

After a while, when Briallen reached for the tissues on an end table, Allie pulled back and said, "You're better than him, Bray. That much is obvious."

Briallen sniffled, and nodded.

"You've got to let him go. Do what you love. Enjoy it, for now. Then, you can deal with your family."

Wiping her eyes, Briallen said, "I want to forget him, Allie. But there's a very stupid part of me that wants him to care."

"I know," Allie agreed, "That's normal. But you are still amazing, without him."

Briallen nodded again.

"Make these last few weeks count. Find what you love most about it, and focus on that. I think that's all you can do," Allie stated.

Still sniffling, Briallen did not argue.

* * *

The following day, Jackson was sitting at a café just down the street from the theater trying to enjoy a quick meal before the show. He was mostly enjoying the cold beer, however, as the day was as sweltering as the past month had been.

While he was staring at a couple of girls across the street, a voice behind him said, "Really? Drinking before the show? Classy."

Jackson turned around to face Allie, who had been coming down the street from the other direction.

"Lovely to see you, too," Jackson snapped.

Allie looked as though she might keep walking, as he hoped she would, but instead she stood across the table from him. After a moment, she asked, "How's Katie?"

_Crap,_ Jackson thought, knowing where this was going.

Smiling, he answered, "She's just fine."

"I bet," Allie snorted.

"Do you want something?" Jackson asked acidly.

Allie considered him and replied, "I want you to make a genuine apology to Briallen."

Jackson laughed harshly.

"I'm not kidding," Allie went on, "If you don't want to be with her, fine. Frankly, I don't think you deserve her. But you can apologize. Own what you did and apologize so she can move on."

Jackson raised a brow, "How about you tell her to just move on?"

Allie sighed, irritated, "She can't do that, Jackson. It would help her to know that you at least recognize what you did."

"Look, I tried to make peace with Poppins. She wants to hate me," Jackson argued.

"You have shown absolutely no concern for how you hurt her, lied to her, and have now ignored her," Allie spat.

Jackson sighed, wishing he could make Allie disappear. He wasn't in the mood to deal with another lecture, today. He didn't understand why Briallen had to make everything so hard. Everything was so much easier when relationships stayed simple. He couldn't understand why she wanted him to love her when they had no future. He was annoyed that she wouldn't just go on with her life. He'd always felt like sulking was a little pathetic, and Briallen was now bordering on asinine.

Finally, he said, "I apologized for everyone seeing her video. That was honestly a mistake. Otherwise, she needs to get over the fact that a superficial relationship ended."

Allie's eyes were dark as she said, "Well, at least you'll admit to being _superficial_."

Jackson rolled his eyes, "Call me names. Fine. Are we done?"

Looking ready to slap him again, Allie turned on her heel and stormed away.

Jackson sipped his drink, relieved.

* * *

For the next three weeks, Allie was pleased to finally see a positive change in Briallen. Perhaps because of what Allie had said, Briallen seemed to have a little more energy. She appeared to be enjoying herself more onstage. Even though Jackson clearly refused to show a shred of decency, Briallen was finally trying to look past him. She had always been an excellent performer, but there was always a little more magic when she was singing with her heart. Allie hoped that, at last, her friend was making the last few weeks count and finding joy in her craft again.

The weather also finally made a change. It was still warm, but the evening temperatures began to drop into the sixties, which took the edge off the heavy heat. It was a welcome change, and Allie felt peace for the first time in quite a while. She hoped Briallen felt it, too. She hoped her friend was starting to heal emotionally. It would be important, Allie thought, considering that she still had to face her parents and birth a baby. There was still a hard road ahead, but it appeared that Briallen would make it to the end of her run. Allie was still shocked that her friend had done it, but Briallen had nearly made it. She would take her final bow and, as Allie hoped, find the courage the face the next steps.

Allie's thoughts continued along this line as she arrived at the theater that Friday night. She hoped for another cool evening as she made her way down the halls to her dressing room. She hoped for a good show. When she got there, she passed her door and continued down the hall to Briallen's space.

Leaning in the door, she asked, "Everything good, today?"

Briallen smiled, "I'm feeling good about this one. It's three hours of joy, of being someone practically perfect. I'm appreciating the escape of it all."

Allie smiled, "You sound like the person I met."

Briallen sobered, "I'm not."

"Three hours of joy," Allie reminded her.

Briallen smiled again and nodded.

"Break a leg," Allie stated, as she often did. Then she went to her dressing room to get ready.

As the night progressed, Allie thought it was an especially good show. Their timing was spot on and the energy was up. The audience was very responsive, and Briallen was having a good night. Overall, Allie felt very positive when they reached the finale of the show. After performing the massive, beautiful number _Anything Can Happen_, there were just a few short scenes until the fictional family stood together on the stage to say goodbye to Mary Poppins.

Staging on stage with Darren and the children that night, Allie could see Jackson in the wings making out with Katie. Disgusted, she held her smile steady. As the music swelled, she watched Briallen begin her flight from stage right. The audience went crazy, as usual, and Allie was glad her friend had this. She was glad she not only got to perform, but she got to literally leave the world behind for a few minutes every night. Allie knew the smile on her friend's face was always genuine during her flight.

Allie continued to watch as Briallen started the ascent across the house of the theater. She flew an astonishing distance, all the way to the back of the highest balcony, which never failed to astound the audience. In the moment, Briallen was beautifully posed, the picture of her character and hovering just before the edge of the grand tier, when her flight stopped. Allie felt a hitch in her chest, because it was abnormal. Something had gone wrong. Nothing else happened, but Briallen clearly was not going further.

Allie watched, praying things would continue as they should. Their flight system was incredibly safe and filled with redundancies to prevent accidents, but things still went wrong. Occasionally, things just didn't work, and it was always terribly disappointing to the audience. For that reason, Allie was more concerned about ruining the magic than any serious incident. She knew Briallen would be heartbroken that this crowd didn't get to experience the whole effect. Allie knew it would ruin an otherwise very good night for Briallen. So she held her breath, hoping things would continue.

From the wings, Jackson watched Briallen's flight as well. He could see her until she crossed the edge of the grand tier, at which point the curtains blocked his view. He felt a sudden uneasiness as he witnessed the same thing Allie witnessed. Briallen stopped, suspended, and did not go any further. He watched, and he was human enough to be anxious.

Over the radios that the technical crew used to communicate, the voices came to life. The sound booth and spotlight operators communicated what they were seeing, and the stage managers sprang to into action. Crew members checked the systems and tried to understand where such a heavily automated system had gone wrong. Assuming it had stopped automatically, as it was programmed to do in the event of any problem or computer failure, they tried to reboot it. Watching from stage right, Kirkland gave orders, hoping to at least get Briallen down. He hoped not to have to evacuate the audience and get Briallen down with the hydraulic stage lift, which was the worst-case scenario. Hoping to work out the problem, Kirkland watched and instructed.

On stage, Allie still stared at her friend as the audience started to realize something was amiss. She watched as the wires holding her friend seemed to shudder, and Allie's heart fluttered. Then, in a moment that was the culmination of every actor's worst fear, in a moment that was the realization of every audience member's worst nightmare, Briallen fell.

From more than thirty feet, she fell in a free-fall. Only the fact that she was still attached to the wires that were connected to the rigging on stage saved her from hitting the edge of the grand tier balcony. As the audience gasped and screamed, Briallen seemed to fall for an impossible amount of time. She finally landed, mercifully without hitting anyone else, in the center aisle of the orchestra level with a sickening sound.

There was a moment of stunned silence when no one moved. The orchestra, when the conductor realized what had happened, stopped playing. Then, gasps and worried cries came from the audience again. In a flurry of movement, the usher staff moved in to assist. Kirkland took off through the emergency stairs that allowed him access to the house of the theater.

Allie, in a state of absolute horror, took off toward stage right and followed him. She left Darren on stage to handle the children and ran. Jackson was right behind her, but Allie was too upset to care. She made her way through the crowd of stunned audience members who either stood still in shock or were trying to leave, and finally got to where Briallen lay.

Kirkland was already there, kneeling down next to Briallen with the House Manager and a few ushers. They had clearly already called for paramedics, and the other ushers were trying to evacuate the audience from the house. The people either made their way out, horrified, or were staring in concern and disbelief.

Briallen lay on the thinly carpeted, concrete floor, absolutely still. One of the crew members had her bag and umbrella, while the others tried to get the wires from the rigging off of her and out of the audience. Luckily, it seemed that no one else had been badly hurt. There were a few audience members who'd been struck by the cables, but their injuries were minor. Briallen, however, lay face down, motionless. There was blood on her face, although Allie couldn't say exactly why. There was blood on the carpet, as well.

Allie stood there, motionless, unable to speak or cry. She was still fully costumed and her long, Edwardian dress brushed the floor. Not caring about what she looked like, she stared at her friend, terrified. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized Jackson was behind her.

Feeling a surge of irrational anger, she spat, "I'm sure _Katie_ is looking for you, backstage."

Jackson gave her a hard look but said nothing.

After what felt like an eternity, the paramedics arrived. Most of the audience members had made their way out of the chamber, and the few who remained were being questioned by the usher staff or treated for minor injuries. Armed with bags full of medical equipment, a female paramedic knelt down and started checking Briallen's vital signs. Both EMTs asked questions as they worked, inquiring about her age, her health, and the nature of the fall. Kirkland answered each question stoically, looking helpless.

Finally, after examining Briallen thoroughly enough to determine she wasn't in immediate danger of dying, the paramedics brought over a backboard. Very carefully, they rolled Briallen over, securing her body to protect her spine. In that moment, Allie's breath caught and her eyes flooded with tears.

Briallen's face was streaked with blood. Her perfect costume was spattered with blood, and it was horrifying. Putting her hands to her mouth, Allie watched as they continued to examine her friend. The paramedics checked Briallen's vital signs again and started an IV. They gave her oxygen while clearing her face of some of the blood. They also checked for the source of injury. It was clear that she'd taken the impact face down, and Allie felt more tears fall as she looked at the blood and bruising.

Then, the female paramedic turned to Kirkland and said, "She seems stable, for now. Her vitals aren't great, but they're consistent. If she doesn't show any immediate signs of internal hemorrhage and her spinal scans come back all right, we'll get this stuff off of her without cutting it up."

Kirkland nodded, and Allie realized that what would become of the costumes had been the last thing on her mind. She supposed it mattered to the company, however.

After another moment, when they brought over the collapsible gurney, Allie swallowed hard. She knew there was something she had to say. She had to break the confidence, now. She looked at Jackson, who was still standing there, and hated that he was going to hear this. Then, she wondered if this wasn't just what he needed to hear.

Taking a breath, Allie stepped in toward the female paramedic and said softly, "She's pregnant."

The woman, who was short, brunette, and very busy, turned suddenly. Looking at Allie in disbelief, she asked, "What?"

"She's pregnant," Allie repeated, and Kirkland's mouth dropped open in shock.

"How pregnant?" the woman asked quickly.

"I think she said twenty-one weeks," Allie whispered hoarsely.

The woman looked at her incredulously and then motioned for the other paramedic to bring the gurney. She pulled Briallen's black flying coat apart and did a brief, external exam of Briallen's abdomen. They moved more quickly, but said nothing further.

Kirkland looked at Allie, and asked, "Are you sure?"

Wide-eyed, Allie answered, "Absolutely."

Then, she glanced at Jackson who was staring at Briallen. His expression was somewhere between terrified and angry, and he looked ready to run away.

Feeling a fresh wave of raw fury, Allie wiped her tears and said to Jackson, "You can go now! I'm certain we don't need you!"

Jackson gave her a hard look and set his mouth in a thin line with his jaw thrust forward in defiance.

Kirkland, who'd caught their conversation, put the innuendos together and realized Jackson's role in the situation, said nothing, however.

They all stood there staring at each other while the paramedics carefully put Briallen on the stretcher. The three of them were silent, each struggling differently.

Then, Allie looked at her friend, her costumes still pristine but her face bloody, and she drew a breath, saying, "I'm going with her."

"You'll have to follow. We'll need the back of the ambulance clear in case she gives us trouble," the male paramedic finally spoke.

"Fine," Allie snapped, "Which hospital?"

"Atlanta Med," was the clipped reply.

"Let me throw these costumes off," Allie snapped back with urgency in her voice.

Kirkland quickly added, "I'll meet you there with Susie, for her costumes."

"I'd keep everyone else away," the female paramedic stated, "She's an ICU patient, I'm sure."

Kirkland nodded, but Jackson still said nothing. As they took Briallen away, he stood there, stoic and unreadable, as Allie tore back through the theater.

As the gurney passed back through lobby, parents held their children close, shielding their eyes from the broken form of their once practically perfect heroine.


	13. Chapter 13: Broken

**I most sincerely apologize for leaving this hanging. It took me a while to find the direction for this. I had the privilege of seeing Mary Poppins on stage again a few weeks ago, and it was the spark I needed. I went back through the manuscript and did some editing. Nothing major changed, but I did tweak it a bit. I hope you'll pick this up again. Believe it or not, I really, really hate unfinished things. As always, enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Broken**

When Allie finally arrived at the hospital, she was trembling with anticipation. Her nerves felt like they were knotted and her stomach hurt from the anxiety. She clutched her purse as she approached the front desk and asked for directions to the intensive care unit. Registering only the answer, she bolted for the elevator. Riding to the fourth floor, Allie pulled her wavy, out of control blonde hair up on top of her head. She'd thrown on a sports bra and a torn old sweatshirt from which she'd long since cut out the neck. Her hot pink yoga pants and flip flops made no sense in the weather and she still had on her show makeup, but Allie didn't care. All that mattered was getting to Briallen. Finding the ICU, Allie asked for her friend at the nurses' station.

"Briallen Griffith?" she asked, "Please…Briallen Griffith?"

A petite, dark-haired nurse with a pixie cut and big, dark eyes looked through paperwork and charts and then answered, "She's still in the ER. She's having several scans right now."

"Where's the ER from here?" Allie snapped her question.

"First floor. Left out of the elevator and all the way down," Pixie Cut explained with a tiny smile.

Allie threw out a thank you as she fled back towards the elevator. In record time, she was back downstairs and confronting the nurses behind the emergency room station. From them, she learned that Briallen was being put through a battery of tests. They made it very clear that she was seeing no one until the process was complete. Allie begged and pleaded, but she was denied. In spite of her panicked state, she would have to wait.

So Allie waited. She chewed her fingernails as she sat curled in a hard, barely-padded chair. She hazily registered Kirkland and Stuart arriving, along with a few other members of company management. At some point, one of the audience members arrived, possibly needing stitches after falling to avoid the wires as Briallen fell. The young man's story about what had happened at the show gradually filtered through the lobby, which was filled with people who had little else to do other than talk. The arrival of a few more concerned cast members asking about Briallen, some in their cast t-shirts, only fueled the gossip.

Allie paid little attention, lost in her current world of fear and worry, until Kirkland and Stuart disappeared with a nurse into the back of the ER. Several minutes later, as Allie was finally texting Sam what had happened, both men came back out. In their arms were Briallen's costumes. Most of the smaller pieces were in bags they carried, but the coat, the skirt, the hat, and the boots were unmistakably Mary Poppins'. A murmuring could be heard through the waiting room as the gossip was confirmed. Allie felt a tiny measure of relief that they didn't appear to have had to cut the costumes off of her friend.

_That's a good sign, _she told herself.

Still, what felt like an eternity passed with no word. Allie inquired a few times, only to be told that Briallen would be going into surgery. The nurses spoke with Stuart a couple of times, but only to ask for information. Everything else was in the hands of the doctors, for now.

As the clock ticked into the wee hours, the room grew quieter. The night was painfully still, and there was nothing to do but wait. Eventually, Allie dozed off. In the world's most uncomfortable chair, she fell into sleep out of sheer exhaustion. And in her quick, chaotic dreams she saw Briallen fall again and again, and she was powerless to stop it.

* * *

Just as dawn began to creep across the horizon, pushing the stars up and out to make room for the day, Allie was gently shaken from sleep. She startled and sat up suddenly, blinking and trying to remember where she was. Then it all came flooding back, and she rubbed her face.

Swallowing over a dry throat, Allie choked out, "Is she okay?"

Giving her a tiny smile, the woman in front of her said, "I'm Doctor Sanders. Tina Sanders. Are you Allie Stanfield?"

Allie nodded, putting her feet on the floor and slipping her feet back into her flip flops.

The doctor, who had shoulder-length, silver hair and intense gray eyes stated, "If you'll come with me, please."

Allie stood and followed without a word.

They wound their way through the hospital, taking corridors and making turns Allie would never remember. They took an elevator to the fourth floor and somehow ended up in the ICU, near where Allie had ventured hours before. Taking her into a small room with just three chairs, Doctor Sanders shut the door. She sat in one chair and Allie took another.

Then, the doctor spoke, "Just to confirm, you are Allie Stanfield?"

"Yes."

"Again, I'm Doctor Sanders. I'm an orthopedic surgeon here," she expanded her introduction, then took a breath, "Miss Griffith was conscious for a bit before she went into surgery and she made it clear we were to talk to you. She kept telling us to 'talk to Allie.' So I'm assuming her family isn't here?"

Allie shook her head and said, "No. They're in Wales."

The doctor nodded, "I see, then. Well, she is out of surgery now, Allie."

"Oh good," Allie breathed a sigh of relief.

The doctor's face was etched with concern, however, and Allie felt her stomach turn suddenly.

"Miss Griffith, in many ways, is very lucky. She escaped without major head trauma or serious internal bleeding from the fall. We believe this is because she took most of the impact on her right leg. That leg is broken in three places, two of which required rods and pins to stabilize the bones. She also has a fracture of her pelvic bone on the right side. That will have to heal on its own, as I can't set that. Miss Griffith also has a closed fracture of the ball of her right hip joint. Luckily, it is intact and will also heal without intervention. It took me several hours to repair the damage, but the limb is stable now. She also has fractures to her nose and right eye socket which will bruise badly, but are not displaced and will heal on their own," the doctor went on, "Lastly, she has two broken ribs on her right side, but they are also not displaced and didn't affect her lungs. Other than some abrasions and expected bruising, that is the extent of her injuries from the fall."

Trying to take it all in, Allie asked, "But all of that will heal? So she'll be okay?"

The doctor took a heavy breath and said, "Yes. In many ways, Miss Griffith is very lucky. But I will be very honest, it will take extensive physical therapy for her to ever walk normally on that leg again."

Allie felt her stomach twist. Then, with a sudden realization, she asked, "What about…the baby?"

The doctor looked away for a minute, and then met Allie's eyes again, her expression sad, "Allie, I'm afraid she's lost the baby."

Allie felt tears prick her eyes.

"While I was working on her leg, just as I was wrapping up, her water broke. We did what we could to keep her from going into labor, but it was out of my control. When her water broke, we had to call in an OBGYN, and it was obvious very quickly that Miss Griffith was having an obstetrical emergency. She had a placental abruption, meaning the placenta separated from the wall of the uterus, from the fall. When her water broke it was apparent that she was bleeding extensively from the abruption. She nearly bled out before the OB could get in. They had to do an emergency c-section, and the pregnancy just wasn't far enough along for the baby to be viable."

Allie just stared at the doctor, speechless.

Taking another breath, Doctor Sanders went on, "The OB, Doctor Downing, couldn't get the bleeding under control. The placenta and uterus were extremely traumatized, and his only choice, to save her life, was to take it."

"Wait, what?" Allie asked hoarsely.

With a sad sigh, the doctor's tone became less clinical and more compassionate as she explained, "He had to take her uterus. Hysterectomy was the only way to save her life, Allie. Otherwise, she would have bled to death. She almost did. She's stable now, and resting. But…she won't be able to have children."

Allie felt her mouth drop open in absolute shock.

After a long moment, the doctor finally said, "The baby was a little girl."

Not knowing what else to say, Allie asked, "Did Briallen get to see her?"

Doctor Sanders shook her head, "No. But she can if she is awake soon enough. Otherwise, Dr. Downing had one of the nurses take a few pictures."

Allie nodded, although she had absolutely no idea what to think. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and Allie felt such a deep sadness for her friend that it physically hurt.

Eventually, she asked, "Can I see her?"

"Yes. But not until tonight. She needs to rest. And it will be some time before Miss Griffith—"

"Briallen," Allie insisted.

"Before Briallen is awake."

Allie nodded.

Doctor Sanders was quiet for another moment, and then said, "She has a long road, Allie. She's going to need her family, and we would be happy to try to contact them."

"No," Allie shook her head, "I'll do it."

"Okay," the doctor nodded, "You should try to rest. Maybe go home for a while. She'll be sedated at least until tonight."

Allie nodded again.

The doctor stood and added, "I'll be back on tonight, so I'll be checking on Briallen. If you have any questions or concerns until then, you can talk to Cherie at the nurses' station in ICU," she started out the door and said, "Please let me know when her family is here. I believe one of the managers from your shows was trying to contact them. I'd like to talk with them myself, and so would Dr. Downing. And Allie? I would ask you to wait until she's awake and has this news for herself before you tell anyone else. She asked us to talk to you, and I know this is a complicated situation, but…"

"I understand," Allie interjected, "I wouldn't do that to her."

Doctor Sanders gave her another tight smile and disappeared through the door. Then, the tiny room was quiet. An indeterminate amount of time passed before Allie moved. She was shocked to her core by what she'd been told, and part of her was still waiting to wake up from the nightmare.

Eventually, she decided she had to get up. The reality outside had to be faced, and she couldn't hide in this tiny room forever. Taking a deep breath, Allie stood and walked out the door. She headed back through the maze of corridors, finding the elevators with the help of a couple of staff members. Back downstairs, she made her way back to the waiting area. When she came through the double doors into the emergency room lobby, she recognized a group of her fellow cast members sitting in the chairs by the large windows at the front of the room. When they saw Allie, Laurie stood up from the group and crossed the space.

Giving Allie a hug, she asked, "How is she?"

Allie could not find the right words. She stuttered for a moment and then said, "She's…she's alive. But she's asleep."

"But she's going to be okay?" Laurie pressed.

Allie could only nod.

The others stood as Allie crossed to where they'd been sitting. Then, she glanced out the windows. Outside, she saw several people who had to be news reporters. Some held cameras and others were talking on cell phones. Then, she saw Stuart crossing the room to where she stood. He looked tired, with what looked like yesterday's five o'clock shadow still on his face. Running a hand over his face, he motioned for Allie to follow him.

Once they reached a quiet corner of the large waiting area, away from the windows, Stuart asked, "How is she?"

Allie once again struggled with the words. Running her hands over her disheveled hair, she finally said, "We need to call her family."

Stuart nodded, and said, "I know that, and we're trying. But the people here won't talk to me, and I need to know if she's okay?"

Allie took another heavy breath, not sure how much she should say.

"Allie," Stuart looked into her eyes, "it's my job to take care of this cast. It's my job to watch out for your professional best interests, and your personal interests while in the theater. I'm not asking if she's okay for the sake of the show. I'm asking if Briallen is going to be okay?"

Allie looked back at him and saw sincerity. Stuart was one of the most genuine people she'd ever worked for, and she'd always respected him. In the moment, Allie decided to trust him. She also decided she had little other choice.

"The doctor, Dr. Sanders, said she would heal from the injuries. There was a whole list, mostly her right leg and her ribs. And her face. But no head trauma," Allie tried to explain.

Stuart looked a little relieved, but his eyes were still troubled. After another moment, he said, "Kirkland told me that, when the EMTs were helping her that you said…I have to ask, Allie…is she pregnant?"

Allie leaned back against the wall, feeling the full weight of what she knew and how tired she was. Closing her eyes for a moment, she said, "Yes, she was. She thought she could finish out her contract without anyone finding out."

Stuart shook his head, "Why wouldn't she just tell me? We've had other actors who have performed pregnant. I had one in Les Mis who stayed until she could feel the baby kicking while she was singing _I Dreamed a Dream._ We would have—"

"Because it's Jackson's," Allie blurted out.

Stuart's face registered the information.

Before he could speak, Allie went on, "But it doesn't matter now. She lost the baby. And she bled a lot. The doctor said she could've died from the bleeding. But…she's stable now."

Stuart nodded, clearly not sure what to say. But his face was etched with genuine concern and sadness. Just then, his phone rang. Motioning to Allie to wait a moment, he answered it. As she watched, he introduced himself to someone and started to discuss Briallen. Allie could tell that whoever he was talking to was upset. Stuart tried to calm them down, and then asked them to hold on for a moment.

Turning back to Allie, he said, "It's Lucinda Griffith, Briallen's mother. We've been trying to call her all night. She says she wants to talk to you."

Once again wondering how it was that all of this had fallen on her shoulders, Allie took the phone. She realized her hand was shaking as she put it to her ear and prepared herself for the conversation.

"Ms. Griffith?" she said hesitantly.

"Allie?" Lucinda sounded panicked, "I just got ten messages from some chap named Stuart. He said something happened to my Briallen? What's going on Allie?"

Allie took another deep breath and said, "Last night, at the show, Briallen fell."

"Fell?" Lucinda's voice rose an octave, "Fell when? During which number?"

"During the finale," Allie tried again, "She fell from the rigging and—"

Lucinda gasped, "From the rigging? As in, while flying? From how high?"

Allie tried to get the words out, "She fell at the end, when she flies over the audience. I think she was up about thirty feet."

Allie could hear Lucinda's voice break with tears as she asked desperately, "Is she okay? Please tell me she's okay?"

"She's stable. She's hurt pretty bad, but they did some surgery and—"

"Surgery?" Lucinda gasped again, "Whatever for? What happened when she fell? Allie?"

Allie was at a complete loss as to how to answer that question. She struggled, because Stuart was staring at her and she couldn't imagine telling Lucinda what all had happened to her daughter over the past five months over the phone.

"Allie?" Lucinda's voice was small and fearful, "Is my child okay? Please tell me the truth…"

"Mrs. Griffith," Allie started again, "I think you need to be here. I think you need to come. Now. The doctor said she's going to be okay, but you need to come."

There was a long pause, and Allie could hear Lucinda sniffling. Finally, she said, "All right. I'm on my way. Just…please call me if anything changes. Please let me know what's happening. Please don't let me get there and find…"

Allie cut in saying, "She's going to be okay. I mean, she's not going to die. But you need to be here."

"All right," Lucinda conceded.

Allie said goodbye and hung up the phone, handing it back to Stuart.

"She's coming," she told him.

"Good," Stuart rubbed his eyes, "Now I've got to deal with the people outside. I never ceases to amaze me how quickly information travels, and how interested we are in other people's business."

Allie glanced around the corner and out the large, glass windows again. The reporters were still there, talking to each other or on their phones.

"They can't come in here," Stuart explained, "The hospital staff ran them out the minute they tried. So I guess they plan to stand out there all day until one of us talks to them. I've asked the cast to keep quiet."

"I understand," Allie whispered.

Looking in her eyes again, Stuart offered, "Why don't you go home? Take a shower and wash off last night's show. Try to take a nap. I'll let you know if I hear anything new. And I assume everyone is going to want to talk to you until Briallen's mother gets here, so you need some rest."

Allie couldn't argue. She touched her hair again and realized she still had pins from her pin curls in her hair. Her show makeup had to be making her look like some sort of bedraggled, Victorian prostitute by now. And she was tired. Now that she knew her friend would recover, at least physically, Allie realized she was exhausted. The adrenaline was gone, and she felt heavy with fatigue. So she nodded her agreement. Realizing she'd left her purse under the chair where she'd been sleeping, Allie collected it from the helpful person behind the desk who'd found it. Then, she crossed to where Laurie and her castmates were still sitting.

Addressing Laurie, she said, "I'm going home. I'll be back in a few hours."

Laurie nodded.

Looking up at her with worried eyes, Wren asked, "She's going to be okay?"

"Eventually. She's got a lot of fractures. She had surgery. But her head's okay. She's not in a coma or anything. I think that's all I should say," Allie glanced outside at the press.

Laurie spoke up, saying, "Go. Sleep. That's all we needed to know. And we know not to talk to them."

Allie gave her a tiny, grateful smile.

When she stepped out of the sliding glass doors into the damp, fall morning, she got about five steps before she was accosted by reporters. Recognizing her as a cast member, they pelted her with questions.

"Do you know what happened at the show last night?"

"Did the rigging fail?"

"Was anyone else injured?"

"Was it Bree-allen who fell?"

"How injured is Bree-allen?"

Allie turned on her heel and snapped, "Her name is Briallen. Bray-Lynn. It's Welsh."

Then, having no idea why that was suddenly so important, she turned back around and marched toward her apartment.

* * *

Five hours later, after taking a shower and crashing on the couch in a restless nap, Allie came back to the hospital. She felt better, physically, now that her hair and face were clean. She also had on more weather-appropriate clothes. It wasn't quite chilly outside, but she'd thrown on jeans and a long sleeve shirt, along with boots to keep out the drizzling rain that persisted in falling. As she walked back to the hospital, she checked her phone again. When she'd woken, she'd had two messages, one from Stuart telling her that Briallen was still asleep and that Lucinda couldn't fly out of London until early the next morning. The second was from Kirkland, letting the cast know that their shows for the day had been canceled. Now, as she walked back toward the hospital entrance, she got a new text message from Laurie.

_You have to see this, _was all it said.

Clicking the picture, Allie realized that Laurie had sent her a screenshot of her Twitter account. Scanning the messages, she saw what her friend was referring to. There were messages asking what had happened the night before, as news spread fast amongst the theater community. There were words of encouragement for Briallen offered by other performers. But there were also several messages simply speculating what had happened, or making fun, tagged with #MaryPoppinsFalls. Doing a quick search, she found more posts under the same tag. She also found preliminary articles on the Atlanta Journal website and on a popular sight covering Broadway news stating roughly what had happened at the show. The comments section on both were already full of everyone's opinion or wild misunderstanding of what had happened. Allie fought back anger, because it hadn't even been a day since the accident and the world was already prying, judging, and laughing.

As she approached the hospital entrance, Allie saw the group of reporters again. She had no idea if it was the same ones or if they had some sort of shift situation going on. And she didn't care. She plowed through them, ignoring their questions and striding back into the fluorescent glow of the waiting room. Looking around, Allie found Laurie. She was asleep in one of the chairs, her jet black hair and dark lashes illuminated by the filtered light of the afternoon sun through rainclouds. Kayla and Wren were asleep in chairs around her, looking equally disheveled. Allie felt a pang of gratefulness, realizing how true the idea was that things like this would tell you who your friends were.

Crossing to them, Allie sat down and carefully nudged Laurie. She sat up, stretching her long legs and rubbing her eyes. Then, Laurie asked, "Have you heard anything?"

Allie shook her head, "Nothing new. But I got your message."

Laurie's expression darkened, "It's awful, isn't it? I mean, I get that this is news. The facts are news. But someone posted a picture from inside the theater! There's a few from people who were there last night. And not only do they make random guesses or post what's not true, someone of them are making jokes. Already. Someone even posted that she's pregnant. I mean, what the hell?"

Allie swallowed hard, not sure what to say.

Kayla and Wren stirred then, and Wren rubbed her face and checked her phone. Seeing what time it was, she said, "We're supposed to be at the theater."

Giving her a little smile, Laurie said, "We don't have a show, remember?"

Wren shook looked at her phone again, and then said, "Oh yeah.

Kayla sat up and yawned, and then asked, "Have you heard anything else, Allie?"

"No. She's still asleep."

"Stuart's dealing with the show people. The longer we're down, the less money they make, you know," Laurie stated, "But they also have to make sure it's safe. I mean, I bet they're already looking at lawsuits."

"Probably," Wren agreed.

There was a quiet moment then. The rest of them looked at Wren, realizing that she would be the next in the rigging, assuming the show continued. Wren looked at her hands, her dark, cropped hair falling around her chin.

"I'm sure it was just some crazy, one-in-a-million thing. I'm sure they'll figure out whatever it was and it will never happen again. Or no one will fly again," Allie tried to reassure her.

"I know," Wren waved her hand, trying to dismiss the worry she obviously felt.

"I don't think anyone ever imagined anything like this happening. Ever," Kayla mused, her dark eyes troubled.

They fell into silence then, because the gravity of the situation couldn't be put into words and small talk felt hollow. The three of them sat for a few minutes, playing with their phones or staring out the window. They were comfortable with each other, and so their unspoken concerns were understood.

Eventually, Laurie tossed her phone in the chair next to her and said, "I can't look at this anymore. People are stupid and cruel. Is anyone hungry?"

Each of them gave a rather unenthusiastic response.

"Come on. We have to eat. I bet none of you have eaten since yesterday. If Briallen is really going to be okay, then we should eat. We should stop sitting here so these news people can stare at us," Laurie encouraged them.

Allie sat up, finding she agreed, and said, "She's right. I know there won't be any more news today. They said she has to rest. She's got a lot of fractures and stuff, but she's not dying. Thank god. So we should eat something."

Kayla and Wren couldn't argue, so they headed out of the hospital. Walking a few blocks, they found a market where they could get fresh sandwiches and juice. Taking their purchases outside to the patio, they hoped the rain would hold off long enough for them to enjoy the patchy sunshine. There was a slight breeze that hinted at fall, and Allie found the change of season a little too metaphorical for her liking. She kept tabs on her phone while she filled her friends in a little more on what had happened to Briallen. She kept it strictly factually, only disclosing what she felt Briallen would allow everyone to know. Most of her injuries were what anyone would expect from the fall. Allie was careful not to mention anything about the pregnancy, however. Laurie had found several mentions of it in the gossip that was already circulating, but Allie hoped she could keep it as that, gossip. Then, after they'd eaten and had been talking long enough for the sun to begin to set, Allie's phone lit up with a message from Stuart.

_She's awake. She's asking for you._

Allie stood suddenly, holding up her phone, and said, "Briallen's awake."

The others nodded their encouragement and she hurried away.

* * *

Back at the hospital, Allie made her way back up the ICU on the fourth floor. Finding Stuart at the nurses' station, talking to the same girl with the pixie cut from the night before, Allie blurted out, "Where is she?"

Holding out her hand, the nurse introduced herself, saying, "I'm Cherie. I've been taking care of Ms. Griffith."

Allie shook her hand and knew she looked impatient.

"Only one person will be allowed back, and only for fifteen minutes," Cherie went on, "Miss Griffith is still very weak. But she's asking for Allie."

"That's me," Allie confirmed softly.

Cherie motioned for her to follow, and Stuart gave her a nod of encouragement. Heading through another couple of doors, Cherie led Allie down a dark corridor, passing several glass-enclosed rooms. The lights were all very dim and curtains kept the patients from view. Allie could hear the beeping and whirring of machines behind the doors, all hinting at people grasping at the edges of life. When they go the last room on the left, Cherie led the way inside, slipping around the glass wall and pulling aside the curtain. When Allie entered the room, she felt her stomach turn into knots.

Briallen was hooked to wires and tubes that punctured and laced their way around her arms. She was breathing on her own, but each breath was long and slow. Her fiery hair was knotted and splayed around her head. But those were all things Allie had expected. She'd seen Sam almost die of an overdose. She knew what hospital patients looked like. What got her was Briallen's face. The right side of her head, from her forehead to her chin was mottled red and swollen, with the beginning of purple trying to break through. Under the sheets, Allie could tell that her right leg was wrapped and cast from toe to hip. It was also in traction, to keep it immobile. Knowing that the last time she'd seen her friend, she'd been suspended in flight with a look of pure joy on her face, Allie's heart broke for Briallen. Her daily flight, her character, and everything about the show was the joy of Briallen's life. Lately, it had been her catharsis and her escape. To have it taken from her like this seemed cruel and unfair.

As Allie was lost in thought, Cherie went to the bed. Touching Briallen's hand lightly, she whispered, "Allie is here."

Briallen's eyes fluttered open slowly. Allie crossed the tiny space and pulled over the one, small chair. Cherie gave her a smile and quietly left the room.

Not sure what to say, Allie clasped her hands together and whispered, "Hey."

Briallen barely said, "Hey."

Allie swallowed hard and then went on, "I'm so sorry, Bray. This just…there aren't words."

Briallen nodded, glancing away.

Smoothing her ponytail, Allie said, "I just wish I could do something. I know I can't, but I wish…there was something."

Briallen stared into the distance for a moment, and then looked back at Allie. Quietly, she said, "They said I lost the baby."

Allie felt a pang in her chest.

"But maybe it's better," Briallen went on.

"Bray…" Allie started.

Briallen kept going, "It might be better. My leg will heal and I can go back to the show. Maybe I can get a new contract and stay…" She stopped, running out of breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, resting.

"Bray," Allie tried again, "you just need to get better. Just…get well."

Briallen nodded, opening her eyes again.

"Your mom is coming," Allie added softly.

Briallen's eyes closed again as she said, "Good."

Seeing how exhausted her friend was, Allie decided to let her rest. She also couldn't think of anything else to say. She didn't know what she could say that wouldn't sound trite or contrived. She was emotionally worn out, but she felt guilty because her distress over the situation paled in comparison to what Briallen was enduring. So Allie gave her friend's hand a squeeze, telling her she would be back in the morning. Briallen nodded, too tired to open her eyes again.

Exiting the room, Allie found Cherie outside the door. The nurse gave her another tiny smile and said, "She should be in a regular room by morning. She's really doing well."

Allie nodded curtly, suddenly wanting to be far away from this place. She felt terrible, but Allie suddenly wanted to flee. She followed Cherie back out of the ICU and then hurried down the hall to the elevator. Feeling something like panic rising up within her, Allie tore out of the elevator and into the lobby. Bolting out the sliding glass doors again, she saw a group of reporters still lingering as twilight faded away. Turning left to avoid them, Allie turning a corner and leaned against the brick wall of the building. Then, the tears came.

Allie wasn't a cryer. Allie was a fixer. She was one who stepped up and helped out when things got tough. She was the one who made soup and brought tissues and calmed people down. She was not the one who broke down and cried. But for the moment, the tears came. In the dark, in the shadow of the hospital and underneath a cloudy, evening sky, Allie let the tears fall. She gave herself a moment and cried for the innocence lost and the unfairness of life. She internalized it, for a moment, and wallowed. Then, she saw Jackson making his way up the sidewalk toward the hospital. And Allie felt her temper flare. The southern spitfire in her returned and she quickly wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Tearing out across the flower beds to the sidewalk, Allie was in front of Jackson before he could reach the doors.

Before she had time to think, she was yelling, "Don't you dare go in there! Don't you dare ask to see her or even ask how she's doing! Don't you pretend to worry and make everyone think you're caring and sweet! You, Jackson Devereaux, are a selfish, spoiled asshole who lies and manipulates everyone to get what you want! You wrecked Briallen and you haven't given a damn about her for months! Now, when it's time to look good on camera, you show up! Well maybe it's time everyone knows that you're a liar who takes advantage of everyone around you! You faked a relationship with my friend and then moved on so effectively that you were making out with another cast member when she fell and could've died! You care about no one but yourself! You don't give a damn about what she's lost! So fuck off, Jackson! Don't you dare go in there!"

Suddenly, Allie felt hands on her arms. Turning, she realized that Stuart had been standing with the group of reporters outside the ER. Pulling her gently away from Jackson, he said, "Allie. Stop. Come on, calm down."

Allie realized she was trembling. Her chest was heaving from the emotion.

"I think we all need to put some space between ourselves and this," Stuart went on, "We don't need to make this any worse, and it's my job to think of things like that. I have to talk to the press and we don't need to feed them. For Briallen's sake, it's time to go home and rest. Allie, you need more sleep. I don't think a drink would hurt either, tonight. Jackson, there's nothing you can do here. Hopefully I'll have some more information tomorrow about your performances. For now…go home. Both of you."

Allie took a step away, rubbing her face. He was right, she knew. Blowing up at Jackson was doing no good and helping no one. She took a few deep breaths and nodded. Jackson didn't argue.

"Go on," Stuart urged, but not unkindly.

Allie took another deep breath and pulled herself together. Then, she gave Stuart a nod and took off down the sidewalk toward home. She didn't look back, because she didn't trust herself. If she turned, she was likely to tackle Jackson to the ground, reporters be damned.


	14. Chapter 14: Justice

**Here's more. I can't think of anything else to say except...enjoy. And let me know your thoughts. I really enjoy hearing what you think or how you feel. For me, reviews aren't just about praise. It's about knowing how something affects your reader. So...yeah. And really, enjoy. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Justice**

The following evening, Allie headed back over to the hospital. They'd had no shows again. It was Sunday, so they should have been busy with two performances. Instead, Allie occupied herself with housework and television she wouldn't remember. With permission, she'd called and asked for updates on her friend earlier in the day. She was told that Briallen was being given blood and then would be moved to a regular room. So she waited until after the nurses' shift change that night to visit. Making her way though the doors and corridors that were now becoming familiar, she asked at the ICU station where to find Briallen's new room. Following instructions, she went up two more floors and searched out room 6019. Pushing open the heavy door, she found her friend in another pristine hospital bed.

Allie startled, because she expected Briallen to be asleep, or at least resting. She expected darkness and the whirr of machines. Instead, her friend had the bed propped up and was staring at her lap. The television was a low murmur in the background. The room was lit only by a lamp next to the bed, which cast Briallen in both warm glow and troubling shadow. Allie crossed the space and stopped at the end of the bed. Briallen looked up, the bruises on her face still startling, even in the dim light. Her right arm was wrapped around her midsection protectively. Her right leg was elevated under the blankets and the heavy cast was obvious from her hip to her foot. Allie just stood there for a minute, not sure what to say. Briallen was still staring at her lap, and Allie flashed back to the night months ago when she'd walked in on her friend holding a pregnancy test. Her stomach churned as she realized that even in her visions of the worst way things could turn out, this was something she'd never imagined.

"Hey," Allie finally said softly.

Briallen finally looked up. In her melodic voice, she quietly answered, "Hello."

Allie swallowed hard and said, "Bray, I wish I knew what to say right now. I wish I had something…"

"They gave me pictures of her," Briallen interjected.

"What?" Allie was confused.

Briallen shuffled the papers in her lap and went on, "The doctor. He took pictures. And he was kind enough to bring them to me…" she offered them to Allie.

Allie finally registered what her friend was saying. Pulling a chair close to the bed, she took the stack of photos from Briallen's hand. Looking at them took her breath. She was impossibly tiny. Her skin was almost transparent, like rose-red rice paper. But she was perfect. Nestled in a white, hospital blanket, she had perfect fingers and toes. She had beautiful, heart-shaped lips so small they seemed sculpted with precision beyond human hands. Every ridge and cleft of her tiny ears was exquisitely exact. Her tiny nose rose between large, almond eyes that hadn't yet opened. She was perfectly made except for being too impossibly small to survive. Allie stared at the pictures, and she understood with great clarity that this was going to hurt the most. This would heal the slowest and leave the biggest scar. Briallen's other injuries would knit themselves back together, but to lose this life, and the potential for any other, was the deepest wound.

"I call her Seren. It's Welsh, and it means 'star'," Briallen went on, "I thought it was fitting, given how we parted ways."

Allie understood the reference.

_If you reach for the stars, all you get are the stars, but we've found a whole new spin. If you reach for the heavens, you get the stars thrown in…_

It was the last big song, the capstone of the show before Briallen got to fly. It was one of her favorite moments. It was an anthem of possibility. Or it was.

Allie tried to smile and said, "It's beautiful, Bray. So is she."

Briallen took the pictures back and said, "They told me I could see her, if I want. They told me I had to decide what I want to do."

"Do?" Allie tried to meet her friend's eyes.

Leaning her head back against the pillow, Briallen's eyes were tired but also very far away, as though she would've just continued talking into the air if Allie left the room.

Taking a labored breath that made her wince in pain, Briallen explained, "I have to decide what to do with her. They said so. But I think I want her cremated. I want her to go home with me."

Allie sat still. She had no words. There was no response she could think of that wasn't trite or entirely inadequate.

"That's the best thing," Briallen kept on, as though deciding what to eat for lunch.

Allie stared at her friend. Her color was better and she was completely lucid, Allie assumed from the blood she was given, but her eyes were far away. They'd lost the sparkle that Allie was certain had won over the casting agents for the show. Those eyes that could communicate mischievous intent, benevolent concern, or barely concealed sentimentality to the back of the house were now dull and unfocused. Briallen was lost in herself, pulled both in and away by the need not to hurt. Allie knew the feeling in her own way, but she was worried about her friend's detachment from the gravity of what she was saying.

"Bray," Allie started, "you can do whatever you want. Whatever you think is best. It needs to be right for you."

Still staring across the room, Briallen went on, "I need to tell them what I've decided."

Allie nodded.

"And my mum is coming."

Allie nodded again.

"She'll be here in the morning. She was finally able to ring me," Briallen stated.

"That's good," Allie said quietly, "That way we can both be here for you. For whatever you need."

Briallen nodded this time.

"Allie?" she asked, still looking away.

"Yes?"

"I was hoping you could tell her."

Allie felt another twinge in her stomach, and asked, "Tell her what?"

"Tell her what happened. At the show. And with Jackson."

Allie took a deep breath, unprepared for that request.

"I just can't tell her," Briallen went on flatly, "I want her to know. I want her here and I want to talk to her but, I just cannot get the words out."

"Bray…" Allie started to protest.

Briallen finally met her eyes. There was pleading in them as she asked, "Please, Allie? Right now, I just need her to know. I need her to know, but…I need to decide so many things and I just…I can't say it."

In her friend's eyes, Allie saw what she needed. Briallen needed to focus on the doing of things, now. She couldn't recount what happened. It was too fresh. She was too broken. She had turned off the emotion and was focusing on action, and Allie could understand that. She could respect that, for now. So she agreed.

"I'll tell her," Allie conceded.

In Briallen's eyes, however, she also saw the tears waiting to fall. And she knew they were coming. Perhaps not today, but as surely as the spring would bring rain, the tears could come.

* * *

The following afternoon, Briallen's mother arrived. She started calling Allie's phone the moment she was off the airplane. Allie, who was used to walking everywhere, had to get her car out of the lot and forge through traffic to the airport to pick Lucinda up. She didn't trust anyone else to do it, however. She knew that Briallen's mother was close to having a breakdown over her daughter, based on the messages she'd left over the past two days. Allie was afraid anyone else would say the wrong thing and send Lucinda into a true anxiety attack. So Allie collected her from Hartsfield-Jackson and drove immediately to the hospital. In the car, they went over the usual pleasantries of getting to know one another, all while avoiding the weighty subject bearing down on them. Once at the hospital, Allie parked the car and turned off the engine. Staring at the steering wheel, she hesitated.

"Are you all right?" Lucinda asked worriedly.

"Ms. Griffith…" Allie started.

Lucinda, who was tall, slender, and fair, with short, silver hair and her daughter's eyes, asked with grave intuition, "There's more than you've told me, isn't there?"

Allie swallowed hard and admitted, "Yes."

Lucinda brought her hands to her face and pleaded, "Is she…?"

"No," Allie quickly assured her, "Physically she is doing much better. Once they gave her blood, she started to look like herself again. She's been talking to me. But…"

Lucinda looked relieved, yet confused.

Allie sighed and rubbed her eyes, then said, "They're going to talk to you in there, I know. Her doctors will talk to you and tell you everything, but she asked me…she wanted me to talk to you. To tell you first. And tell you everything."

Lucinda gave her a strange look and asked, "Why you and not them?"

"Because, they know what's wrong with her. But they don't know why."

Lucinda could seem to find the right question.

Allie went on, "Briallen was lucky in the fall. Her leg is badly broken and her face looks terrible. She has some broken ribs, too. But, the reason she lost all the blood…is because she was pregnant."

There was a potent silence, then, as though the words had filled the space and still hung there, sucking the air from the car.

Eventually, Lucinda shook her head and said, "That's not possible. I saw her just two months ago and she was not pregnant."

Allie carefully stated, "Yes, she was."

"But…no," Lucinda shook her head again.

Looking away for a moment, Allie tried again, "She was seeing someone in the cast back in May. And it went very wrong. And she's been hiding it since then. I told her to tell someone. I told her she couldn't keep it a secret. But then, she almost did. She almost made it."

Lucinda still sat speechless.

"The fall did something that almost made her bleed to death during surgery. Something about the placenta. They told me they had to do a c-section and the baby was just too small," Allie forced out the words.

"This can't be true," Lucinda's voice was shaky.

"I'm sorry," Allie said very softly.

"I'm sure there's been a mistake," Lucinda insisted.

"She asked me to tell you," Allie went on, "She wanted you to know the whole story, but she said she just couldn't get it out."

Lucinda started to shake her head.

"She's going to heal. They said she's doing well, now. She'll be okay, but…"

Lucinda kept shaking her head.

Allie wanted to stop. She wanted to bolt from the car, but she plowed on because she had to get it out, "They don't know how well she'll walk on her leg. She'll need therapy. But…to keep her from bleeding out they…they took…they did a hysterectomy."

Lucinda gasped, then. Still shaking her head, she threw opened the door and jumped from the car. Allie followed suit, not sure what to expect. Lucinda slammed her door and nearly shouted, "No. No! That is not true! That is absolutely ludicrous. Take me to my daughter this instant. She and I will straighten out this mess!"

Knowing there was no way to rationalize or prove anything she'd said, Allie simply led the way. She felt deflated, having gotten the story out. She'd followed through on her promise, but it was a hollow victory. Now, she could only deliver Lucinda to her daughter.

Once at the door to room 6019, Allie let Lucinda go in first. She felt like she was returning something precious that she'd borrowed but broken beyond repair while it was in her care. She felt responsible, even though she absolutely wasn't. The burden was heavy, but Allie was strong. So she bore it, and went through the door again.

* * *

Carter was watching television when he heard about it. He'd been watching some outdated sitcom after the late show and was contemplating going to bed when Beth had come into the living room. She yawned, having already fallen asleep, herself. This had been their routine lately, with him clicking through the channels into the night and her falling asleep alone in their bedroom. She was rehearsing during the day for a new show that was in the workshop phase, and he was doing a short run in _Les Mis_ before that production went through several big cast changes.

Carter enjoyed it, but he missed _Mary Poppins._ In his mind, it was the best role he'd ever landed. He remembered the audition, where he'd worn his best impression of the shabby-chic chimney sweep look and he'd mussed his light brown hair under a cap. He knew he'd looked the part. He was tallish, with a wiry frame that belied his real strength. He had just enough age to look wise, but just enough youth to be mischievous. He was Bert, and they'd seen it, too. He was cast immediately, and he'd done more than five hundred shows between London, New York, and Atlanta. He'd thought it was time to lay it down, after Atlanta. He'd promised to marry Beth and he missed London. He needed some down time. But a piece of him was still always singing _Chim-Chim-Cheree._ It was still pulling him, and he knew it. He was pushing thirty-four, at this point, and didn't like the thought that his best role was behind him already. Perhaps that was why he still checked Twitter for news from his former castmates in the states. Maybe that was why he still let his phone give him updates from the arts scene in Atlanta, as if he were still there.

Remembering he hadn't checked his phone was how he found out.

Beth had come to find him and go through the ritual of asking when he would come to bed. He was giving her the usual vague answer when he reached for his phone for the first time that day. He checked his Twitter account, noticing several similar updates from his Atlanta friends. Specifically, one from Laurie caught his eyes.

_Prayers for Briallen. Don't want to say more yet._

He'd forgotten his phone all day, and he noticed her post was from that morning, US time. Clicking through some more, Carter scanned Facebook and then his stateside sources. Finally, he found something more. The local newspaper in Atlanta had run a blurb in their online edition about breaking news at the theater. It was brief and preliminary, but it said everything he needed to know.

_Witnesses state they watched the actress who plays Mary Poppins fall from above the first balcony level. She appeared to be unconscious after the fall and horrified families watched as she was taken away by ambulance. The actress appears to be Briallen Griffith, of Wales._

Carter didn't need to read any more. He was on his feet while still scrolling through his phone as though it might suddenly starting producing more information.

"What's the matter?" Beth asked, her wide, dark eyes clouded with worry.

"It's Briallen," Carter answered.

"What about her now?" Beth bristled.

Beth, who was tall, rail-thin, and had a mane of straight, brown hair, was from the north country. When she was tired, or emotional, she tended to fall back into the muddled accent she'd worked so hard to erase for the sake of performing. Now, her roots showed as her temper flared, casting off sleep.

Carter ran a hand through his hair and said, "Beth, we did one hundred and thirty-six shows together."

"Yes. I've been told," Beth snapped. They'd had this argument before.

"She's been in a bad accident," Carter explained, his concern mounting with every tweet and Facebook post he read. A couple of entertainment sites had picked up the blurb as well, although they said very little. On social media, however, the rumors were already flying.

"Is she all right?" Beth finally asked out of obligation.

Carter shook his head, "I don't know. I think she's in hospital. It doesn't sound as though it's good."

"Well, I am sorry for her," Beth tried to be sympathetic.

Carter finally looked up from his phone and said in his choppy drawl, "I have to go see her."

"What?"

"I have to go," Carter went on, "If I can get the time off, I need to go."

"Carter Jones, are you quite serious?" Beth snapped.

He nodded.

"But she's thousands of miles away! And she's just a person you performed with for a few months. She's barely a friend!"

"I was her first and only friend over there for a long time," he argued.

"Well, maybe she's made a new _friend_ since you left," Beth's sarcasm was razor sharp.

With a tired sigh, he stated, "This is something I need to do. She could die, Beth."

With a tight-lipped expression, she countered, "Our wedding is in exactly three weeks. Or have you forgotten again?"

There was a painful silence as they faced off with each other.

"I will be back," he wearily promised.

Beth said nothing and looked away.

"I would do it for you," Carter offered to fill the silence, "I would go if it was you."

"And maybe that's the rub," Beth spat, turning on her heel and swishing into the bedroom.

* * *

More than a day later and back in room 6019, Allie gently touched Briallen to wake her. Keeping her hands away from her friend's injuries, she softly called Briallen's name until the redhead opened her eyes. Briallen looked around, confused.

Realization finally filled her eyes, and she tried to sit up straighter, saying, "I'm so sorry. The medications make me so sleepy..."

Allie started to reassure her friend that she had every right to sleep, but Lucinda cut her off. Rushing to her daughter's side, she flailed her hands as though she wanted to hug her child but was terrified of hurting her.

Briallen reached out for her mother's hand and said, "Hello mum."

Lucinda broke down, then, tears streaming down her face as she dropped onto the edge of the bed and sobbed, "My little lamb. I never should have let you come here."

Briallen tried to smile and quipped, "As if you might've stopped me."

"Don't be droll," Lucinda snapped, "I should have stopped you! And now look at what's become of you! You've nearly died, and..."

Lucinda let the words hang there, as though she couldn't bear to say out loud any of the things Allie had told her in the car. To give them voice, it seemed, would allow Briallen to be wounded and robbed again.

Allie decided to give them some time. She'd listened to and retold her friend's story for two days now, and she thought mother and daughter deserved to be alone. Selfishly, Allie also felt she was scraping the bottom of her emotional well. She had no answers or beautiful words, and she was still tired. She felt she would be tired until she knew her friend was well, and she recognized that might never fully occur, which made her more tired. So Allie headed back down to the lobby, looking for some place to get a soda because it was something to do and probably wouldn't result in more crying.

She was wrong. In the big, ER waiting room she found Sam. He was approaching the desk and looking around worriedly. Seeing Allie, he crossed to her. She fell into his arms, a few stray tears falling down her cheeks as she finally transferred some of the burden to her boyfriend.

"Hey," Sam finally whispered, "she's going to be ok. You said she was awake, right? It's like you told me a long time ago, wounds heal. Time will erase this."

There was no time to ponder if that was true or to wallow in the sentimentality. Allie's phone lit up with a flurry of messages from Stuart, and she wiped her eyes so life could go on.

* * *

That night, Allie and the rest of the cast attended a hastily scheduled but mandatory meeting. Gathering in the rehearsal studio, they talked in hushed tones and glanced around at one another. The space was the same. Their props were where they'd left them and the floor and mirrors hadn't changed. It smelled the same. But they were changed. What had happened the past Friday night had changed them all, so that being together in the familiar space was like a far too realistic dream. It was the same, but the energy was off.

After a few minutes, Stuart addressed them. Kirkland was by his side, along with several other people. Among them, Allie guessed, were at least two lawyers who wore expensive suits and looked around cautiously. She listened as Stuart addressed them.

"I'm sure you all know why we're here, so I'm going to get to it," he said heavily.

He began to explain what had transpired three nights ago. According to an investigation by the technical team, local law enforcement, a building inspector, and an accident investigator, the failure had been in the building itself. The rigging, which was meticulously inspected every day, was without fault and had performed very well, given the circumstances. The roof trusses, however, had not. The accident investigator had discovered undisclosed fire damage in the space high above the audience where the rigging was mounted. On the surface, everything appeared stable. The trusses in the aging building, however, were anything but. After years of bearing their weight in spite of their damaged condition, they had given way, failing just enough to shift sideways, splinter, and throw the mounting and pulleys of the rigging askew. It had all occurred during the show, after the daily inspections had taken place, and the rigging had been strong enough to stay in one piece and try to do its job. There was no catastrophic failure to sound an alarm, just the machine trying to pull Briallen's weight at a now off-center angle that wound the cables too tight and snapped them. It was one-in-a-million. It was unprecedented and almost certainly not possible to repeat. It would never happen again. And it had all prompted a complete investigation of the building. Repairs were being made and the theater would most certainly be a safer place after all this. But none of it helped Briallen. None of it undid the human damage.

Allie's thoughts stayed there as she listened to Stuart telling them that the shows would continue the following evening, but only using the rigging on the stage. No one would be flying out into the audience until the building was cleared. It was deemed safe for occupancy, but not safe for crazy-flight-tricks-concluding-in-the-ceiling. The show would lose its big finale, but it would go on. Those in control could keep on making money. And Wren would fly across the stage instead of following the path that had nearly killed her friend. Wren looked relieved, Allie thought, but none of this changed what was. Even the knowledge that some of these lawyers would probably be talking to Briallen soon and offering her large sums of money not to sue the city of Atlanta, or the theater itself, didn't help. Nothing would really make it right. Answers were not absolution.

Allie had to shake it off. She tried to focus only on Stuart and the schedule he was now giving them. She tried to focus on rehearsals and changes to the show. Allie focused because she did not wallow. She was done crying. It was time for justice, even if that was only wrought by getting back on their stage. Allie determined then, in spite of so much evidence to the contrary, that this place was not done giving rise to Briallen's song.

* * *

The next twenty-four hours were crazy for all of them. They spent the next day, a dreary, cool Tuesday, rehearsing and then mentally preparing to do a show. Changes were made and Wren's flight path was altered. Allie and the others worked with Wren to make sure the performance went smoothly with a new lead actress. It was work, and it kept everyone busy. For a time, they could put Briallen out of their mind, which made those close to her feel terrible, but it was necessary. They had to be able to lay down their friend's pain and grief in order to give themselves to their show. They were consummate performers, so they did what had to be done. The show would go on. Life would go on. Which is exactly how Jackson thought it should be.

That evening, before their show, he went by the hospital before call time at the theater. He had very little time, but he wanted to talk to Briallen without Allie or anyone else screaming at him. He couldn't say exactly why he was going, but he told himself it was the decent thing to do. He really thought Briallen had overreacted about their entire situation, and he couldn't fathom why she'd decided to stay pregnant, but he didn't wish anything like this on her. He figured he should say some nice words so that Allie would back off and stop being such a bitch. Is his opinion, she acted like he had set out to ruin Poppins' life, when all he'd wanted was a little fun. It wasn't his fault that she'd made all kinds of ridiculous assumptions. It wasn't his fault that she thought they were in love after a few weeks.

Navigating the maze of hallways and unnecessary doors, Jackson finally found her room. Looking around, he made sure the area was clear of cast members or staff. Knocking on the door, he listened for permission to enter. A small voice with a telltale Welsh accent bid him entrance. He slowly pushed open the door, scanning the room to see if she was alone. She was.

Jackson entered slowly, trying to shake off the creepy feeling that the hospital gave him. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he walked forward toward the bed. Briallen looked up at him. He didn't register her expression, at first, because he was staring at the swelling and dark bruising covering the right side of her face. Then, his eyes flicked down to her leg, which was obviously cast and immobile. He felt a twinge of pity, but he shook it off. Then he looked back at her face. Her eyes flashed.

"Why are you here?" Briallen demanded.

Jackson tried to smile, "I just thought I should come by."

Briallen closed her eyes, as though she didn't have the strength to yell, and said, "Jackson, there is nothing you have to say that I need to hear. We are absolutely done. So please leave."

Jackson felt his temper flare and he argued, "I just wanted you to know that I didn't wish you dead or anything. There's no way I knew something like that would happen. Nothing that I did put you here."

Briallen's voice rose and she came back, "You might not have made me fall, but if you had been any kind of decent human being then perhaps I wouldn't have been flying pregnant."

"You made that choice, Briallen," he returned flatly.

"What other choice did I have?" she returned.

Jackson retorted, "Stop performing. Get an abortion. Tell someone. Or how about, don't get pregnant?"

Briallen nearly came out of the bed as her voice rose again, "I do believe it took both of us for me to be pregnant! Perhaps if you cared about anyone other than yourself you would have insisted we be more careful!"

Jackson rolled his eyes, "That's so typical. Put it on me. Women are all, 'it's my body' until you get pregnant, and then you blame the guy for not thinking about your body!"

Hurt flashed through the anger on Briallen's face, and she said nothing. Her lips just pursed as she glared at him.

"Look," Jackson threw up his hands, "I'm just trying to be decent. I'm sorry you fell and I'm sorry I don't love you. I'm sorry you're pregnant. I'm sorry—"

"I'm not pregnant. Anymore," she said through clenched teeth.

Jackson stopped for a moment, registering the information. Sighing, he said, "Well then I guess I'm sorry for that, too."

Briallen's voice hitched in spite of herself as she said, "Maybe, Jackson, I would feel better about taking some responsibility for our situation if you had shown a smidge of remorse. Perhaps I could admit my part if you had any compassion in you at all. But you don't. And your absolute indifference is disgusting."

Unable to hold back his anger, Jackson replied, "All you're going to get is compassion! Everyone feels bad for you! Poor Briallen. Poor, poor Briallen. She's been so mistreated and hurt, and now she might not walk! And her baby died! Poor you, Briallen!" he pointed in her face, "Well, you were the one in the rigging pregnant! You were the one who could've cared less about condoms! You were the one fucking a cast member in your dressing room! I think, just maybe, you are not perfect! You are not Mary Poppins! Sure, you've got the vain, snobbish, holier-than-thou attitude, and I know you love for people to look at you and see a fairy tale character, but that's what it is! You wanted to have it both ways! You wanted to fuck me in secret and keep coming across as Miss Morals! And maybe that was the point of my bet! To prove that you are just as weak and normal as everyone else! Maybe it's good that you won't play the part of Mary again, because you were a fraud! You were impulsive and irresponsible, and you don't want to admit it! That's why you're so pissed off! But don't worry, because everyone will keep saying how good you are and keep throwing you a pity party for weeks to come! Just remember, when they're kissing your ass, that you wanted it as much as I did. Maybe more. You did this to yourself."

Jackson turned on his heel and walked out, disgusted. He was sick of Poppins. He had never been so thoroughly done with a girl before. She played the ingénue so well it was sickening. In his mind, the accident would only cement Briallen's place as Martyr of the Year. He imagined her giving interviews, telling everyone how he had tricked her and taken advantage of her. Normally, he could care less what a girl thought of him once he was done with her, but Briallen was crossing over into asinine. She was making his life hard, and Jackson didn't appreciate the inconvenience.

At the show that night, he was even more annoyed. All he heard from everyone's mouth was how sad it was to go on without Briallen. Even Wren was trying to secure her own sainthood by saying how she'd never wanted to take the part 'like this.' It was all so stupid, considering it had been a freak accident. Poppins hadn't thrown herself in front of a train to save the cast. She was doing her job and lying about being pregnant.

By the end of the night, Jackson was pissed. He was beyond feeling like he owed anyone an apology. He wanted a measure of justice. He usually couldn't be bothered with dealing with girls after he left them, and he usually didn't care what they said. Usually, there was just whining or a brief explosion and then the cold shoulder. Briallen's pity party, however, was infuriating. And the only thing Jackson enjoyed more than girls was winning. Winning a bet. Winning a role. Winning an argument. He lived to win, and this felt like a contest. If she was the martyr then he was the oppressor. But Jackson had an idea of how to remedy that. He knew how to win.

So after the show, he picked up the phone.


End file.
